T is for Tornado
by whumpertrooper
Summary: Charlie and Blake find themselves facing an enemy that can't be stopped. Will they come out of it intact? Another one for the A to Z Charlie whump challenge.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **Welcome to another story from the A to Z whump challenge. As always, I tried to research the subject but please forgive any inaccuracies. I fortunately have no first hand experience with any kind of natural disaster so... this is all fictional. Except for the mention of the tornado in 1909 in Ballarat, which unfortunately indeed happened. _

_This is unbetaed, so if you notice mistakes, feel free to drop me a line. I wanna thank the wonderful folks at the TDBM discord server and on Tumblr who helped me with some facts and details about life in Australia. You are the best 3_

* * *

**T is for Tornado**

„Ready to go home?" Blake asked as Charlie settled down in the passenger seat. He waved at his mom standing across the road in front of the house and then turned away, facing the road.

„Yeah, let's go," he said with a sigh.

Blake gave him a curious look, but started the engine. He honked the horn as they passed by the house Charlie's family now lived in and he too waved at Shirley.

Charlie watched the figure of his mom vanishing in the rear-view mirror. He thought he spotted one of his brothers coming out of the house, but he wasn't sure. Not that it mattered anyway. This whole visit seemed to be one misstep after another.

Last week, when the Doc mentioned having to visit an old friend in Melbourne for the weekend and asked Charlie if he wanted to hitch a ride with him, Charlie thought it was a great idea. He hasn't spent that much time with his family lately. Hell, his youngest brother must've grown a few inches since his last visit, especially with the growth spurt hitting him. So after a phone call to his mom to make sure she didn't have other plans, Charlie agreed to share a ride with Blake.

The trouble of course started almost instantly. As soon as Blake dropped him off, Charlie was confronted with the fact his family was now living in Bernie's house. _Their _house, as Ray was quick to point out with a glare. Charlie bit his tongue and decided that the smartest thing will be to keep his thoughts to himself for the duration of the visit.

He almost managed for the first day. Most likely because Bernie and Ray were off training and Charlie had a chance to catch up with his mom. It was a pity that his younger brothers already had weekend plans however. Mikey was now seventeen and deeply in love with a girl, which meant that if he wasn't with her, he was fawning over her. Charlie wondered if they should have another talk, but seeing as his kid brother seemed to have more luck on the love front than himself, the conversation was over fast.

"You know Charlie, if you ever need some advice... I'm here. Just call," Mikey said with a wink, patted Charlie on the shoulder and excused himself to the bathroom. He had a date after all and needed to look good.

Charlie decided not to kill him at that point, mostly because Mikey was otherwise cool. He was the only one of Charlie's brothers who didn't take his leaving personally. Even Joey, who was normally ecstatic to see his oldest brother seemed to act a bit cold towards him. Maybe that one hurt Charlie the most.

He thought they had understood when he left. He had been helping out his mother and providing for their needs ever since he turned fifteen, when his father was killed in service. While his mother got a pension, she had to take care of four boys. She couldn't take on that much work because both Joey and Mikey were too young to be left alone. So Charlie stepped in, first delivering the paper in the early mornings before school, then later on getting some weekend jobs at the shipyard, while his mom took on nightshifts at the local factory.

It was a hard few years for the whole family, but Charlie worked his butt off to step into his father's shoes and provide. Keeping up the good grades became priority when he decided to join the police. But of course, Ray didn't see that. Or rather he forgot quickly. He thought that Charlie had left them to get rid of the responsibilities... so when Bernie came in and started caring for them all... Ray had decided who to put his trust in.

Charlie thought he made his peace with Ray after the whole fiasco with the dead boxer. But as much as he might've accepted Bernie as Ray's couch, he couldn't really give his blessing for the man to become his father.

The thing was though... except for his mother, no one really seemed to care anymore.

It was during the Saturday dinner as they were all sitting around the table, chatting about their day, that Charlie realized something.

While this might've been his family in blood... he wasn't really a part of it anymore. There were inside jokes being traded between Ray and Bernie, with Mikey popping in. His mother was serving food to the man, and each time she passed him, there was a touch or a smile between them. It was when Joey asked Bernie to pass the potato salad and he called him _dad_ when Charlie excused himself to the bathroom. Because no one had noted the slip up. No one batted an _eye_. And Charlie just couldn't... he couldn't imagine his father would be alright with his youngest son calling the man he once put behind the bars his dad.

Of course, while no one really noted Joey's slip up, they all noted Charlie's absence. Or rather his tight pressed lips and stiff posture when he returned.

The atmosphere seemed to turn colder and Charlie couldn't help but feel as the one who didn't belong.

He didn't start a fight that night, excusing himself to bed early. But the next day, when Joey glared at him during breakfast and Ray vanished for training before Charlie even got up, not to be seen for the rest of the day, Charlie felt he overstayed his welcome. Not even his mom's cheery attitude and homemade lunch could change that.

"Everything alright, Charlie?" Blake asked and Charlie blinked, turning away from the rear-view mirror. They were long gone from the familiar streets and well on their way out of Melbourne.

"Yeah. No. I don't..." Charlie shook his head, then ran a hand over his face. "It was just strange," he said finally, hoping that Blake won't start asking questions. Right now he would probably just rant and then regret his words. It was better to calm down first. "What about you, Doc? Visit went well?"

Blake threw him a look. It was clear he knew Charlie didn't feel like talking.

"It was alright," he said and Charlie felt grateful when there were no questions.

"Reggie had found himself a lovely wife, who is willing to put up with his ridiculous love for dogs. And while I do love those beasts... I don't understand how he can keep eight of them. I mean, I spent two days at his house... but I will never get rid of all the dog hair!" As if to prove his point, Blake showed his arm under Charlie's nose. Charlie noted the otherwise pristine coat littered with white fur and couldn't stop the chuckle.

"You know it will be Jean who will have to deal with it, right?"

Blake's eyebrows furrowed.

"Hm, yes. Maybe we better stop at the shop and buy her some flowers."

"Or a box of chocolates," Charlie offered, catching a glance at Blake's pants as well. While less visible, he could still see the reminders of the four legged companions.

"Yes well... unfortunately it was only upon my departure that I found out the guest room I slept in was usually serving as the dog's bedroom. Which would at least explain why the beasts were so inclined to try and get in all night long."

Charlie chuckled, feeling his mood lift a bit. When he caught the smile on Blake's face, he eased back into his seat. It was funny how he only realised how tense he was these last few days when the tension finally left his shoulders.

He wondered whether leaving for Ballarat was a mistake... or a blessing in disguise. Was it the right choice? He kept looking out the window, following the road. He wasn't gone that long, but even the streets of his hometown had changed. How could he have expected his kid brothers to be different?

As if to underline his dark mood, the weather seemed to be joining in. The sky in front of them was turning dark.

"Looks like a storm might be coming," Charlie sighed.

"Well, we better get home before then," Blake said and it was clear he would prefer not to have to drive in the rain. Charlie couldn't fault him for that.

"How is your mother doing?" Blake spoke casually and Charlie knew it was genuine curiosity and not just Blake growing tired of the silence. Still... Charlie found it hard to answer.

"She's... she's doing alright. They all are," he added.

Blake shot him a look.

"Why does it sound like it upsets you?"

Charlie startled.

"What?"

"Why the long face, Charlie? Did something happen?"

Charlie shook his head.

"No, nothing happened. They are all absolutely fine."

There was a moment of silence.

"Without you?" Blake added softly and Charlie looked at him, wide eyed.

"I never said that, Doc," he frowned.

"You didn't have to. And there's nothing wrong with feeling that way. Lord knows..." Blake sighed and Charlie noted the farewell look in his eyes. "I am faulty of the same thinking. While I am immensely happy my daughter is happy with her family, I can't stop but feel... forgotten in a way."

Charlie thought about it.

Forgotten or ignored... in this case it was the same.

"It's like I don't belong anymore," he said softly, turning his head back towards the window. There was a hand giving a reassuring pat to his shoulder.

"You do belong, Charlie. And they didn't forget. They just... adjusted. As did you."

The hand squeezed his shoulder then let go.

Charlie nodded silently, his thoughts still in a whirlwind but at least the rock in his stomach felt a bit lighter. They drove for a few more minutes in total silence, but the sky was becoming a dark grey and the atmosphere in the car a bit stifling.

Charlie opened the window on his side, taking in a whiff of fresh air. It smelled of rain... and soil.

Blake turned on the radio and the car was filled by the enjoyable sounds of rock and roll. Charlie was softly humming to the rhythm, while Blake was tapping his fingers. Until he reached up and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, grimacing.

"You alright, Doc?" Charlie asked, concerned.

Blake waved him off.

"Just a bit of a headache. It feels like the pressure's changing or something." Blake reached out and turned down the volume of the radio, though he still left it playing. But he also rolled down his side of the window.

"Do you want me to drive?" Charlie offered. He understood what the Doc meant by the change of pressure. His ears had felt stuffed as well for a moment, but it passed.

"No, thanks. It's not that bad, just a tad annoying."

"Alright. My offer stands," Charlie said and frowned. Along with the dark sky, the wind seemed to be picking up as well. The gum trees around them were waving more and more. After few more minutes when Charlie had a few leafs land on his lap and the front window was becoming a graveyard for small insects, Charlie rolled up his window.

"I hope we don't end up in a storm," he muttered.

As if on cue, the radio crackled. Both men startled at the weird sound. Charlie had reached out instinctively to turn it off altogether, when the crackling stopped. The song had also ended and instead of it there was the voice of a reporter.

"_We are bringing a special weather warning for the area of Meredith and Ballan. We have reports of strong winds heading from Meredith up north. There is a strong chance of hail and lighting. Folks, if you are around Ballan, close up your windows and stay clear of high trees, least they fall. This was a weather warning from 3DB at 1030kHz. Stay safe, wherever you are. We will keep you updated on the situation. Now back to our regular programming-" _

Charlie and Blake exchanged a look. They had just passed Ballan. It was maybe an hour drive to Ballarat. The darkness was coming from the south, as the reporter announced.

"Well, let's hope it passes us. There's hardly any place to find shelter right now, and I'd rather not have hail pelting my car," Blake grumbled. Despite being a gas chugger, Blake was still very attached to his Holden.

Charlie couldn't but agree. Something about the dark sky just didn't feel right. It didn't _look _right actually. One patch in the distance seemed to be much darker. Trouble was, however much Blake stepped on the gas to shorten their journey, the dark patch of the sky kept following them... even gaining on them.

The radio stayed on even though it started crackling more and more. Charlie didn't dare to turn it off however until he heard another report. Unfortunately, it was when the announcer sounded once again with a weather update when the radio signal fell out totally. The car was filled with a screeching sound that sent both men lunging for the dial to turn it off.

"So much for keeping us in the picture," Blake said and also rolled up his window. It was starting to rain.

It wasn't a normal rain however. The wind was getting stronger and the rain drops were being pelted against the car. The visibility was fast becoming a problem.

"Uh, Doc? Maybe we should try to wait this out somewhere?" Charlie advised, starting to feel uncomfortable. He didn't like bad weather while driving, even less so if he wasn't the one in control of the vehicle. And it wasn't helping that there were literal goose bumps on his arms and back. It felt as if the air was filling with pent up energy.

"I'd love to park it somewhere Charlie, but I don't really see any sheltered place. And I can't stay on the road. In this visibility, another car might easily miss us and crash right into us."

Charlie had to agree with that. There were gum trees along the road but those would hardly offer any protection. On the contrary, during a strong wind or a storm they were more of a hazard. The few bushes Charlie's eyes caught sight of weren't any better. The rest was just ankle high grass hiding who knew what creatures. It was a rather sparse looking road, easy to lull one with its normalcy and bareness.

"Let's just drive then. Maybe we can leave the storm behind," he said with a sigh.

And that's what they did. Or at least tried to do.

For a short while it seemed like the dark clouds were easing up, as if the storm was changing directions. Even the rain had eased up so they could see better.

But that lasted only shortly and they didn't get much relief. Another car had passed them and Charlie wondered whether it was heading to a worse situation than them or not. For the past ten minutes he couldn't let his eyes off the dark patch on the horizon. Was it just his imagination? It didn't seem to move at all... but it must've been moving. If nothing else following them, because the size didn't change.

Charlie had a bad feeling about it and he knew Blake was also looking out for any kind of shelter he could spot. The fact it was barely noon, yet Charlie had to squint to see the time on his watch inside the car was scary.

The rain had picked up again.

"I think I can see a house, Charlie," Blake said suddenly, but Charlie didn't pay him much attention. He caught sight of something he wasn't sure was even real. The dark patch seemed to have jumped over a small hill and even through the rain, Charlie could finally identify it.

"Charlie? Are we stopping there or should I keep driving?"

"Doc-" Charlie's mouth opened in a silent O and while he could sense Blake's frustrated look, he couldn't take his eyes off the dark patch. It was gaining and there was no mistake. It was heading straight at them.

"What's wrong?" Blake asked when Charlie still haven't answered and then he followed Charlie's gaze.

The car swerved.

"Dear Lord!" Blake cursed and righted the car, his eyes as wide as Charlie's own.

"Is that..." Charlie started, but shook his head. Nah. It must've been the rain playing tricks on them.

"Whatever the hell that is, I'm not staying on this road!" Blake turned the wheel and the car drove off the main road, onto a dirt one. Charlie felt the car jump a bit and start shaking and protesting at being driven on such terrain at such a high speed. His teeth clanked together at one point and he momentarily lost sight of the thing chasing them as Blake's driving seemed to be a more imminent threat.

"Bloody hell!" Blake swore and slammed on the brakes, the car turning and coming to a halt mere inches from an uprooted gum tree blocking the road.

Charlie smashed against the door with a pained grunt, while Blake ended up somehow dazed on the front wheel.

For a moment no one moved. There was no sound, except for the rain and the wind. Then they both heard a strange rumbling.

A tree branch smacked against the front window, bringing Charlie back to reality.

"We need to go," he said, but his voice sounded unnaturally silent.

"Doc! Come on!" he tried again, this time much louder.

Blake jerked, raising his head from the wheel and looking at Charlie. There was a small trickle of blood running down his chin and Charlie hoped it was just a busted lip and no serious injury.

"Doc? We need to go," he repeated frantically.

"You alright?" Blake finally asked and Charlie nodded with relief.

"Yeah. But that... thing!" He pointed back and Blake followed his finger.

There was no mistaking it.

Charlie had never before seen a tornado in real life. He never imagined he would.

But here it was. A dark funnel, seemingly standing still maybe a few kilometres farther from them. Charlie wasn't fooled by the feigned calmness of it. He could see the trees around them bending. Things were flying around. He swore he spotted a bird being swept away at a speed of light, and he kind of hoped it was a magpie. Would serve the beast right. He half expected a kangaroo sailing through the air as well, almost wished for it. Maybe then he would realize this was a bad nightmare and wake up.

It was real though. He knew it, because Blake saw the same thing.

"Tornado?" he uttered in disbelief. "Charlie, we need-"

Charlie just nodded and tried to locate the farm. Blake had seen a building. Maybe there was a storm cellar or an old bomb shelter. Hell, even just four walls might pose a better shelter then a small tin can on wheels surrounded by trees.

"Where?" he asked frantically as he couldn't spot the building.

"There, Charlie!" Blake grabbed Charlie's shoulder and physically turned him towards a shadow that looked like a house.

They took one more look towards the black funnel. It seemed to be in place. But the trees bent down lower.

"Run!" Blake shouted and so they did.

Opening the doors of the car was a struggle and as soon as they were out, the doors were slammed shut by a gust of wind.

The house seemed to be farther than ever. The wind was strong, coming at them from the side. Charlie found himself being swept off his feet more than once and Blake was also struggling to stay upright. The rain kept pounding down on them with abandon and within seconds they were both drenched to the bone. When Charlie turned his face to look back at the tornado, to make sure it was still away, a gust of wind splashed more water on his face. Coughing and spluttering, Charlie gave up on trying to locate the threat. Instead he was trying to keep his eyes on Blake's form. The man had somehow managed to get ahead of him, leading the way. Charlie was thankful, because he had no idea where they were heading. He could see the building coming up closer and he was just praying that there was some shelter, that they would make it in time.

With a spurt of energy at making out a door in front of him, Charlie managed to catch up with Blake. Just in time to see something big and heavy flying right at the man's head. Without thinking, Charlie dove forward, shouting Blake's name. The wind took it from his mouth, but Charlie managed to push Blake out of the way at least.

Something heavy smacked into his shoulder, throwing him to the ground. All Charlie felt was a strong pressure, then the wet ground grinding against his face, rain and soil filling his mouth and nose.

He wasn't sure where was up and down anymore. He spluttered and flailed, feeling as if he was being drowned instead of being swept by a tornado. When he was starting to think that this was it, he would never get to breathe air again, a hand grabbed his arm and pulled.

Charlie was back up on his feet, being manhandled and pushed forward. He could hear a voice screaming at him, but the words were lost to him. The sound of the nature became too overpowering.

All he was aware of was the struggle with gravity and the wind. Blake... it _must_ have been Blake... had a deathly clutch on his water logged shirt and was dragging both of them towards the side of the building.

Charlie finally managed to make out the structure ahead of him as a two storey building. His heart sank when he realized the thing didn't stand a chance against the force of nature that was heading towards it. That _they _didn't stand a chance.

Until they both quite literally stumbled over a cover by the side of the building. At first moment Charlie didn't realize what it was his foot caught on, but when he slammed down onto his knees and hands, feeling a jarring pain shoot through his whole body, he recognized the thing as a crude door handle.

Blake tugged at his arm again, shouting more and pulling him towards the fake safety of the house, but this time Charlie didn't budge. He pulled Blake back and instead of trying to explain, slammed both their hands against the steel surface of the door.

Blake stopped fighting with him. Something heavy slammed a few feet from Charlie and he saw what most likely used to be a fence shatter to pieces. Swallowing down a cry of surprise, Charlie focused on what now seemed to be their only chance at survival.

Both he and Blake tugged at the handle, pushed, tried to find a lock. It didn't budge. Until Blake found a latch.

The intensity of the rain had suddenly changed. It felt as if it become one steady stream of water. Charlie's hands were shaking uncontrollably... his whole body trembling. He didn't know if it was the cold, the wind or simply fear taking its hold over him. But he wasn't alone and Blake took hold of the door. He pulled and the gust of wind did the rest. The door slammed open, almost taking Blake's fingers with it. Luckily the man had pulled back at the last second. In front of them was a dark hole. Charlie spotted few stairs leading down, but there was no real light and they didn't have time.

Without a word, Charlie jumped into the hole. He was lucky. It wasn't all that deep and he managed to land without breaking his legs. He stood up shakily and his head was at just about the level of the door. Blake stood there, momentarily frozen.

Charlie didn't understand why he wasn't jumping inside as well, but he didn't plan on asking. Behind Blake he could clearly see the funnel heading towards them. Around it a swirl of debris.

"Doc!" Charlie screamed, and Blake snapped out of his stupor. He glanced backwards, then grabbed at the door that was now slamming against the wall of the house as the wind was playing with it. Blake then followed Charlie's example and jumped in, using his own weight against the wind to pull the door closed over their heads.

It shut with a heavy slam. Charlie's hands shot up, his shoulder giving a loud protest. He had to find something they could use to lock the door in place before it was torn open by the tornado.

His fumbling fingers found the latch just as something heavy started falling down from the sky.

On the steel door it sounded like a rattle of a machine gun.

It was loud. In the total darkness of their shelter it sounded terrifying.

Charlie felt the water dripping down his fingers. He felt the body next to him shiver violently.

"Doc?" he asked, surprised that he could even hear his own voice through all the noise. There was the rumble that was coming closer and closer. "We should get down!" he shouted, a bit disconcerted by the rattling of the door. He was hoping the thing won't just be ripped out, leaving them out in the open and facing the tornado. Getting deeper down seemed to be pertinent. But Blake wasn't moving... wasn't saying a word.

"Doc!" Charlie shouted, grabbing at the shoulder and giving it a prompting shake.

The man pulled away as if he was burned, giving a startling scream.

Charlie jumped back on instinct as the arm he was holding swung at him.

"What the-" he couldn't even finish.

Blake must've lost his mind.

Instead of going down, the man was trying force his way up the stairs, fingers clawing at the steel in an attempt to get the door open.

Blake was screaming something, but Charlie didn't understand the words. He wasn't sure they were even spoken in English, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that if Blake managed to open that door, they were both as good as dead.

Charlie lunged forward and without much thought wrapped his arms around the now struggling man.

Blake was bigger than Charlie. He might've been older, but he was also a soldier used to combat. And right now he was most likely stuck in one of his nightmares from war.

Charlie couldn't fault him for that. The sounds... the darkness... he felt terrified to his core and he didn't even have any war experiences. But he wasn't about to let them both die either. He dug his fingers into Blake's coat, not unlike as the man did just a few minutes prior, drugging Charlie from the mud. He pulled.

Blake showed against his sudden constraints, managing to dislodge one of Charlie's arms.

"Bloody hell, Doc!" Charlie shouted, rage and fear mixing as the sound of hail and oncoming disaster became almost unbearable. "Wake up!"

Blake wasn't asleep. But that didn't matter. Charlie felt that Blake was slipping out of his hold. A knee or an elbow had somehow connected with his stomach, leaving him breathless. This had to stop.

With all his might, Charlie grabbed whatever part of Blake he could reach and pulled.

His foot, shoes wet and muddy, slipped on the stone stair and before he knew it, he was falling.

_They_ were falling. Charlie still had Blake in his grip and as the gravity took hold and Charlie lost any footing, they were both airborne.

It felt like a long time, but in truth Charlie didn't even manage to cry out at the horrible sensation. He managed to somehow turn so that when he finally landed it wasn't on his head.

It didn't spare him from the agony however.

Charlie thought he might've been hit by lightning. There was a flash of brightest light as his shoulder connected with the hard ground, followed by the rest of his body.

The light turned into an all encompassing pain which managed to silence even the tornado.

It didn't last though. It became dark quickly and Charlie found himself struggling for breath, feeling the added weight of Blake on top of him. The rattling sound above them was drowned out by what Charlie could describe only as an oncoming train. If that train was ten times its usual size and instead of rails it was tearing up the ground. Or the house.

There was the sound of wood and concrete being ripped up.

Charlie and Blake huddled in a pile on the bottom of the stairs, not even breathing as above them the world seemed to come to an end.

Despite the darkness, Charlie's eyes were wide open. He figured if his time had come, least he could do was face death.

The roaring swished over, shaking the ground itself.

The darkness stayed.

The train seemed to pass right over them... followed only by the sound of falling debris.

It couldn't have taken more than a few minutes at most from the moment they left the car.

Charlie felt as if whole days had passed.

Suddenly, there was nothing but deafening silence.

No tornado.

No debris.

Not even rain.

The only sound was the ragged breathing of the two of them. They were still alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

_It was dark and damp. He could smell the earth but also something else. Blood and waste. The pit was his home for the last five days. He should have gotten used to it by now. After all, this wasn't the first time his mouth got him thrown there. Blake just hoped this stay won't last as long. _

_It was the middle of the night and Blake leaned against the wall, huddling up into a ball. Nights were getting cold even here in Singapore and his ragged clothes barely provided any warmth. He was half asleep when the usual pattern of things changed. There was a rumble of engines and a sudden panic all around. Blake stood up, raising his head towards the sky. Was it his imagination? Or were it really airplanes?_

_The warning whistle and shout from one of the guards confirmed his thoughts. Blake felt a jolt of hope. Maybe this was it? Maybe this was their rescue? _

_The sound of the falling bomb dashed his hopes away. The explosion rocked the ground and Blake dove down, covering his head as the sound of bombs kept coming, followed by the fire of artillery. On the surface, guards and prisoners screamed from pain and horror, trying to escape, trying to fight or find a place to hide. Blake could hear people running around, could see their shadows in the flickering light of the fires and explosions. _

_With each explosion the dirt kept falling down on him, along with small rocks and debris. Blake didn't like small spaces. He hated them even more when there was no escape and the world above his head seemed to be coming down. _

'_I need to get out!' he realized. Any moment a bomb could fall and the pit could crumble, burying him alive. He couldn't just wait here... he had to get out._

_Burying his fingers in the dirt, Blake tried climbing up. _

_It was to no avail._

_The walls were smooth and high. The guards made sure there was no way for him to climb up. Still, desperation was a harsh mistress. Blake scrambled upwards, nails digging into dirt. He was near the top, when he felt a weight on his waist._

_His heart almost gave out from the scare. He looked down in panic and saw a dark figure clinging to him, pulling him back down into the pit. Another airplane flew right above them, it's roar unnaturally loud. There was a crash and more screaming. _

_Blake kicked out, trying to dislodge the figure, any logical thought fleeing his mind._

_He had to get out!_

_The weight gave way momentarily and Blake's fingers grasped at the edge of the pit. He was so close! He was almost there!_

"_Doc!" Someone called out and Blake froze. The figure from down below used the moment and jumped. Strong arms circled Blake's torso and pulled._

_Blake's fingers gave way as gravity took over and he was plummeting down along with his attacker._

The landing was softer than he expected. There was a grunt and Blake felt his head connect with something soft, then slide down to the hard surface of the floor.

The pit had vanished.

Somewhere above, the sky was still falling, but the roar... it was like nothing Blake had ever heard before. This was no man made machinery. This was pure force of nature.

It was hard to figure out what was happening. Blake could still smell wet soil... but the smell of rot and dirt was missing. The pit was never this dark before. If nothing else, he could catch a glance at the sky. There was nothing. Just the sound... and the feel of someone next to him.

_Charlie_.

And the tornado, Blake realized when the sound of tearing wood and falling debris rushed over their heads. There was debris falling, then only silence, broken by harsh breathing.

"I think... it's over," Blake said shakily, meaning not just the tornado but the flashback as well.

Charlie grunted in response.

"Charlie?" Blake asked, suddenly worried. Something wriggled beneath him and only now did Blake realize why the ground felt so soft.

"Get... off," Charlie managed to say and nudged at Blake, then moaned in pain.

Blake quickly scrambled off.

"Bloody hell," he uttered, horrified at the possibility he caused harm to Charlie during his flashback. "What's wrong?" Blake asked hurriedly and reached out blindly. His hand grabbed at a forearm.

Charlie screamed.

Blake let go as if burned.

"Charlie? Talk to me!" Blake wanted to reach out again, to find out what was the problem, to make sure the boy wasn't bleeding out somewhere or dying. But he was afraid to touch him without seeing, without knowing what was wrong.

All he could go on right now was the pained grunts and sounds of Charlie moving around, most likely curling into a ball to protect whatever was hurting.

"Stay still," Blake said, moving as close as he dared to. His mind was running through all the possible scenarios and he cringed at the realization that the fall wasn't just a dream and that he landed on top of Charlie. He could have injured his spine and moving around could make it all worse...

"Just stay still please," Blake muttered and started patting his pockets. He needed light, he needed to see. Where were the blasted matches when he needed them? Ah, there. He felt around the pocket and it was only when he felt the soggy material he realized everything on him was drenched. There was no way the matches would work. Cursing, Blake had given up on the idea of light for the moment.

"Talk to me, Charlie. What's wrong?" he urged and once again reached out, this time much more carefully. When his hand encountered the wet and shivering form, Charlie winced, but didn't yelp this time.

"S-shoulder," he uttered through clenched teeth and Blake softly but methodically moved his hands.

"Right or left?" he asked, trying to keep the questions simple. Charlie sounded to be in a lot of pain and Blake prayed the injury wasn't too serious. He wasn't sure how fast or if even they could get to the hospital at this moment.

"Right," Charlie said then groaned as Blake's fingers reached the part. Charlie was currently lying on his left side, curled up with his arm pressed tight against his chest in an attempt to ease the pain. Blake had one hand on his back, the other followed the line from Charlie's neck down to his shoulder.

Even the lightest touch caused Charlie's breath to hitch and his body to freeze up.

"I'm sorry," Blake apologized, grimacing. He could feel the unnatural angle of the shoulder. "I think it's dislocated."

"Y-yeah, feels... feels like someone... ripped it off," Charlie said in between breaths.

Blake understood. He had managed to dislocate a limb or two before and any wrong move felt as if someone was jabbing a hot needle right into a nerve.

"I need to check it a bit further, but it might be uncomfortable," he warned, waiting for Charlie's acknowledgement.

He received a grunt.

Palpating gently along the joint, Blake was trying to get the feel for the dislocation and make sure no bones were broken. The arm itself seemed to be fine. Unfortunately, there was really no way to find out what damage was done without an x-ray. He could feel the muscles were already tensing up. He stopped his exam of the joint and ran his hand up and down Charlie's spine and neck, feeling for any deformities. Luckily everything else seemed to be fine.

"Are you injured anywhere else, Charlie?" he asked anyway, hoping not to get any more bad news.

"Don't think so," Charlie said and it was clear he was trying to get a handle on the pain.

"Good, that's good," Blake noted with relief. A dislocated shoulder wasn't life threatening. Blake himself didn't feel injured, except for his pride for the flashback and possibly causing Charlie's injury by falling on top of him. His priority right now was to find some source of light and get Charlie out of there so he could treat him.

"Try not to move. I'll open the door and see if we can get some help." Blake stood up and tried to orientate himself. Now... which way was the door? Blake made a few shuffling steps, deciding to head the way Charlie's feet were pointing.

"Wait!" Charlie called out and Blake heard him try to move.

"Charlie! Stay put!" he admonished. "What's the matter?" he asked when he heard Charlie go still.

"Is it... safe? Won't it come back?"

Blake paused, then shook his head. It wasn't like they had that much experience with tornadoes in Australia.

"I think you mean the eye of the hurricane?" he pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah," Charlie admitted a bit sheepishly.

"There might be more tornadoes, but... we won't know unless we check outside."

"Just... be careful, Doc."

"I am always careful," Blake noted and smiled when he heard the resounding snort. "Well, almost always," he added as he reached into the darkness, trying to feel his way around.

There was nothing in front of him at his shoulder height and he wondered just how far did they fall. But then his foot hit a stair. Blake cursed as he jammed his big toe.

"Doc?"

"I'm fine," he quickly reassured Charlie before the man would attempt to get up again. "Just being clumsy," he muttered as he blindly followed the stairs. There were eight of them, until he reached the steel door. He could see a sliver of light shining through a cranny in the corner and even just that sliver of light brought relief.

The world hasn't ended yet.

Blake's hands located the latch and he pulled it open, then he pushed at the door. It didn't budge.

Blake blinked, for a moment uncomprehending. Was there another latch? Should he try and pull?

No, that didn't work either. Blake felt the panic returning. It seemed that they were stuck. In the damp darkness, in a small hole underground. He leaned his shoulder into the door with more force, grunting and pushing and cursing. The door moved barely a few millimetres. Something rattled above and he realized that there must be debris blocking their way out. A wall or a tree... Blake didn't know. All that mattered was that they couldn't get out.

Breathing was becoming hard and Blake imagined the air was running out. How long can the two of them stay in a cellar? How much air was there? How much space?

His brain was already in a panic mood, when a familiar voice broke through.

"Doc? What's... what happened? Doc?!"

It was Charlie. He was worried and in pain. Charlie, with his hurt shoulder, trying to get up to check on Blake because he was panicking.

Blake shook off his fear and attempted to calm his breathing.

"Nothing. It's okay, just stay where you are," Blake reassured and despite the deep urge to rush against the door and try to get out, he did the exact opposite. He turned away from the exit and slowly made his way back to Charlie.

"We are... stuck?" Charlie asked, correctly surmising the situation.

"For the time being, I'm afraid so," Blake said, trying to sound much calmer and more composed than he felt.

This time it was Charlie who cursed.

"I can't but agree," Blake said with a sigh. "By any chance, do you have a lighter on you? Or a torch?"

Charlie snorted. It wasn't as if they had time or the presence of mind to grab anything from the car. At the moment their only priority was to get into safety.

"There should... should be a light in here?" Charlie said, trying to sit up. He let out a pained hiss and Blake held his palm over his chest, keeping him still.

"Easy," he soothed. "If there's a light, I can find it myself."

"Can't... can't you fix it?"

"Fix what?"

"My arm," Charlie grunted. "I want to help."

Blake shook his head and sighed.

"That's what I need the light for. I want to take a look, before doing anything else."

"What about... the door?"

"Can't open it. Something must've fallen on top of it I think. But maybe with light we can find another way out... or a crowbar at least."

Charlie hummed his assent. Blake gave his uninjured arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Just hang in there and we will fix this," Blake said, this time speaking to both of them. The panic from being stuck was still there, trying to get to the forefront of his mind, but at the moment he managed to focus on Charlie's pained breaths.

He was a doctor. He had to help. That was his purpose after all. So Blake ignored the sick feeling in his stomach and the urge to start banging on the door in lieu of focusing his senses. Touch. At the moment that was the only sense he could really count on to help. He stood and carefully made his way over to the closest wall. It felt like brick.

For a second Blake entertained the idea that he could maybe just find a light switch, but that was wishful thinking. He would be lucky not to encounter any spiders or other critters usually dwelling in cellars.

Now having to brush away the thought of possibly poisonous spiders as well, Blake slowly made his way across the cellar, trying to get a layout in his head. Counting steps from one corner to the other, until he finally reached some shelves. He could tell there were jars, most likely with jam and other preserves. At least he hoped it was something edible, in case they were stuck here for a longer period of time. He carefully moved his hand over them, not wanting to break anything. Finally, at the end of one shelf he felt a familiar shaped object.

"Eureka!" he called out when he took hold of what was undoubtedly a torch. Big and heavy, but a torch nevertheless. He flicked the switch.

The torch blinked to light, blinding both of them... then promptly turned dark.

"Bloody hell!" Blake cursed and gave the torch a good smack.

The light came back on.

Blake blinked, rubbing at his eyes and trying to adjust to the sudden light. The torch was strong, but the slight buzzing sound didn't give Blake much confidence that it will last long. He needed to see and check everything out before the torch decided it had enough.

He gave the cellar one quick sweep, looking for a boarded up window or anything that could be used to help pry the door open. He haven't spotted anything helpful. The cellar seemed to be empty except for the shelves stacked with produce and preserves. Well... at least they wouldn't die of hunger or thirst for a while.

First order of business then. Helping Charlie.

Blake turned the light towards where his friend was. Charlie twitched at the sudden light shining into his eyes and inadvertently moved his injured arm.

He cursed and Blake grimaced, making his way over to the fallen man. Blake set the torch down in a way that it would give enough light but not blind them both and took a good look at Charlie.

The man's face was smudged with mud, his hair still dripping water. Blake remembered how he had fallen outside. Blake almost didn't notice then and it sent chills down his spine on how close they both came to being swept in by the tornado... or plummeted by the falling debris. Charlie had been hit anyway.

What Blake could see under the mud was pale skin and blue eyes squinting at him, filled with pain. No blood anywhere, though given the state of both of their attires, Blake wouldn't notice much except for a spurting artery.

"Found... a way out, Doc?" Charlie asked through gritted teeth.

"Not yet. First I think we better sort that shoulder."

Charlie blinked.

"Here?"

Blake nodded.

"Yeah. Normally I wouldn't do that without first getting an x-ray, but... I'm not sure how soon we will get out of here. The longer the shoulder stays dislocated, the harder it will be to put back in. And the more damage you are risking."

"Oh... okay," Charlie said, sounding just a bit unsure.

"I'm not gonna lie. It will hurt... but I promise, as soon as it pops back in, the pain will be much more manageable."

Charlie swallowed, but nodded.

"Do what you need to, Doc," he said, his voice sounding scratchy.

Blake hesitated for a moment. Maybe he could get them out... maybe all he needed was just a bit more force and the door would open. But then, they still needed to get to the car and hope that it wasn't destroyed. And if so, it would take at least an hour of a very uncomfortable ride to Ballarat.

No, the kindest thing was to proceed quickly. Coming to a decision, Blake now just needed to figure out the best approach.

"Alright. I think we should do this with you lying down." There was still a chance that the pain from the shoulder was masking some other injury from the fall and Blake didn't want Charlie to move too much until he was sure. Not to mention, if he fainted during the resetting, it would definitely be safer for him.

Blake gently manoeuvred Charlie flat on his back. Then he settled on the ground on the side of Charlie's dislocated shoulder.

"Okay, here's what is going to happen. I will carefully pull at your arm until it pops back into the socket. All I need from you is to lie still and try to relax your muscles as much as possible, alright?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, although the quick rise and fall of his chest showed that he was anything but relaxed.

"Charlie, I mean it. The more relaxed you are, the easier this is. Slow your breathing and try to focus on something else. Anything."

"Easy to say, Doc," Charlie muttered, but at least seemed to work on slowing his breathing. Once he didn't look on the verge of hyperventilating, Blake took hold of his hand and started to slowly guide the arm horizontally away from the body, until it was about forty-five degrees from his side.

He watched as Charlie grimaced, then shut his eyes tight.

"Easy, Charlie. Only a bit more. Try to focus on breathing. In... and out."

Blake repeated the words, happy when he saw Charlie try and follow the rhythm. He gave him a moment, then took a more solid grip of the hand. He started pulling it towards himself firmly and steadily, trying to keep the same angle.

Charlie moaned in pain.

"Just breathe..." Blake encouraged him and put a bit more force into the pull, until he finally felt it move the way he needed.

Charlie cried out, his left arm shooting towards his right shoulder.

"It's alright, it's done. You did great, Charlie," Blake said, giving Charlie's hand a squeeze, then reaching up and checking that the joint was indeed in place.

"That bloody... hurt," Charlie uttered but his breathing was already calming down.

"Yes, I'm sure it did. How about now?" If the pain hadn't lessened, they were in trouble.

"Better. Much better," Charlie said and the relief was clear on his face. Blake smiled.

"That's good. Alright... let's get you sitting up, I still need to check something."

"Thanks, Doc," Charlie said while Blake helped him into a sitting position.

"Ah, I believe I should be the one thanking you actually."

"What for?" Charlie frowned.

"You pushed me out of the way out there. And... I'm not even sure what happened once we made it inside."

Charlie blinked then shook his head.

"You dragged me here, Doc. I think we are even."

Blake gave him a look but then nodded.

"Now... can you touch your left shoulder with your right hand? Like this?" Blake demonstrated the move and after some hesitation, Charlie copied it, albeit grimacing.

"Wonderful! It seems like we did a good job. Nothing else hurting?"

Charlie took a moment to answer, but then shook his head.

"Just bruises I think," he said and Blake decided to trust him. If for nothing else than the fact there was not much else he could do at the moment anyway. And some colour had already started returning to Charlie's cheeks. Either that or the torch was slowly going out.

"Alright. It would be best if we found something for a sling, but until then..." Blake undid one of the buttons on Charlie's shirt and carefully guided the hand through the opening so it now rested against Charlie's chest.

"I know it's not the best solution, but-"

"It's okay, Doc," Charlie said, shivering a bit. "Though I wish we wouldn't be drenched."

"Yeah, me too," Blake agreed, noticing his own shivering. At least there was no wind, and it was turning into autumn, so the temperatures weren't that low outside either. But the cellar was underground and it was kept cool. They weren't moving all that much and now that the threat had subsided, their bodies began reacting to the lack of warmth.

Still, it was more uncomfortable than dangerous at this point. With the shoulder being taken care of and Charlie looking less like he wished for death, Blake's mind had turned back to the problem at hand.

Getting the hell out and going home, making sure that Jean was alright and his house was still standing. It would have been just a bit easier if there was anything that could've been used as a lever or a crowbar to pry open the door. Maybe break off the hinges.

While Blake was busy looking around, shining the light of the torch at every corner, Charlie had slowly made it up to his feet.

"Take it easy, try not to move that arm too much," Blake advised a bit absentmindedly. He wondered if the owners of the house were home when the tornado hit. Blake really hoped not. The fact there was no one hiding in there with them was a good sign at least. If the owners were gone... there was a chance someone will be returning to the house. If not right away... well. Blake hoped they won't have to figure out what to do in such case.

"Do you think-" Charlie was squinting, brushing wet hair and water from his face. "-that we could move the door? Together?"

Blake grimaced. He didn't want to risk Charlie hurting himself anymore, but just looking around the small space made shivers run down his spine. And it wasn't caused by the wet clothes.

"We can try. Just.. be careful."

Charlie nodded, seemingly relieved that he could offer some assistance.

They both walked up to the steel door and took a better look. There were eight stairs leading up to a small platform. There on the wall was a small ladder, not more than a meter high, used to get out. There was a latch on the inside and Blake remembered one being on the outside as well.

"Alright, let's try this," Blake muttered, nodding at Charlie to take up position. Charlie put his left hand up, undoing the latch, then leaned his palm against the steel door. Blake did the same, though he used both hands. Without prompting, they both leaned into the door.

Charlie grunted. The door moved maybe an inch, letting in just a sliver of light, but as soon as they stopped pushing even that inch was gone. They tried two more times before Charlie pushed just a bit more and he let out a curse.

"That's enough," Blake said instantly, reaching out to Charlie.

"I'm fine," Charlie grunted, but he let his left arm fall back down and move to touch his right shoulder before he thought better of it.

"You're not... and this isn't the way," Blake said, and with that realization his heart fell. They were stuck here for the foreseeable future. "Let's take a break... this won't be fixed with brute force."

"Not on our end at least," Charlie agreed tiredly and with a sigh sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the side wall. Blake looked at him for a moment, then copied his motion, settling opposite Charlie.

"Yes, I suppose you are right," Blake admitted, running a hand over his face. He felt a pang of pain as he brushed at his mouth and only just noted the split lip. Grimacing, he touched the split skin with his finger and looked at the blood on the white skin. Something about the sight of the blood was just mesmerizing... especially in the flickering light of a torch in a damp cellar.

Blake blinked, then shook his head.

This wasn't a POW camp.

"Doc? You alright?" Charlie asked and the worry in his tone was like a cold slap in the face.

"Yes, of course," Blake hurriedly assured the younger man. "I'm perfectly fine, Charlie," he said and tried for a smile.

Too bad that Charlie couldn't see it.

The torch had flickered and with a strange buzzing sound gave out.

Blake's smile was drowned out by utter darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Charlie decided that this whole weekend sucked. Starting with the disastrous family visit, ending up with well... a damned tornado. In Australia. He still couldn't believe it. If not for the steady throbbing of his shoulder and the wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin, he would've thought this was a simple nightmare.

Unfortunately, this seemed all too real. The darkness and the silence in their prison wasn't helping any. While Blake had tried to keep up the conversation for a short while, Charlie could hear his tone was turning more and more distant, until he fell silent. Charlie could hear Blake's breathing hitching for a moment and he was sure the man was once again fighting memories.

That wasn't good. The last thing Charlie needed right now was the Doc going crazy in such closed off space. Charlie couldn't have pacified him even if he wanted, not with one hand practically useless. And he didn't want to risk the Doc hurting himself.

He had to bring him back to reality, make him focus on something else. Or someone.

"Doc?" Charlie spoke up and even he cringed at the sound of his own voice. It seemed to reverberate against the steel door, more of a reminder of their situation.

"Yes, Charlie?"

At least Blake was still in the present, even though his voice sounded a bit shaky and lower than usual.

"Do you think that it reached Ballarat?"

There was more silence, though this time Charlie was sure Blake wasn't in the past. Oh no. He was present.

"I hope not," the man spoke after a moment.

"I think it went that way, but..." Charlie didn't finish.

"Tornadoes can change direction quickly," Blake said, trying to sound reassuring. "Or dissipate altogether."

Charlie nodded.

"Have you ever seen one before?"

"No. But... my mother told me about the one in 1909. It was a few months before I was born. There was heavy flooding in the area at the time. Luckily our house was spared, but they hadn't known it at the time. Most people were taking refuge in the church, especially women and children. She haven't seen the tornado, but... she heard it."

Charlie shuddered. Even thinking about the sound made him clench his teeth in remembered terror. He couldn't imagine how scared the women and children must've been at the sound of such force reverberating through the church.

"Funny enough... she couldn't describe it. No one knew at the moment what was happening. All they heard was this... roaring sound as they covered under the pews. All they saw was the destruction it left behind."

"Dear God... that must've been horrible," Charlie uttered.

"Yes, I am sure it was. But... I remember also something else she told me. The days following the flooding and tornado, the whole town had worked together. She said it was at the same time the worse and the best thing that could've happened to the town. At least the people put away their differences and helped each other out."

"I hope everyone is alright now," Charlie said, thinking about Rose, about Jean, hell, about the police station. Whatever damage the tornado caused, he bet the station was in uproar, busy trying to handle things. He should have been there... or at least trying to get there, instead of sitting on the floor like some useless lump.

Charlie hated feeling useless. It was one thing to wait for a rescue when it was just his life on the line. But waiting for rescue when there were other people who might've been in need of help? That was... wrong.

Gritting his teeth, Charlie made it up to his feet.

"Everything alright there?"

Charlie shook his head. Nothing was alright. He smashed his good hand against the steel door.

"We need to do something, Doc. What if Rose or Jean need our help? We can't just sit here doing nothing!" Charlie slammed his palm against the door again, this time adding a shouted "Help! Anyone out there?!"

"Charlie, calm down. I'm sure the girls are fine-" Blake tried to sooth him and it might've been funny how quickly their roles changed. Charlie didn't care.

"Come on, anyone there?" he shouted and hit the door once more, before Blake took hold of his arm.

"That's enough, Charlie. You don't need to break that other hand."

Charlie grunted and stopped making noise. He leaned his head against the door though. He felt that if he sat down it was as good as giving up.

"Did... did I ever tell you about the time when I got stuck in the attic for half a day?" Blake spoke, clearly trying to distract Charlie.

Charlie appreciated the sentiment, he did. But while he normally would have enjoyed one of Blake's stories, right now he wanted silence.

"Shh!" he hushed him suddenly and he could feel Blake freeze.

"Excuse me?"

"I think I hear something! Listen!" Charlie had pressed his ear against the door. Was it...

"Barking?" Blake added, his head also pressed against the door.

"I think so," Charlie agreed. If there was a dog... there might be people as well.

"Start shouting!" Blake advised, even though Charlie didn't need to be told twice. He was already banging his good hand against the door and shouting as loud as he could.

"Hey! We are here! Help!"

Blake grabbed the now useless torch that was lying on the floor between them and used it's metal frame to bang against the door as well.

Charlie would have cringed at the noise they were both making, but at the moment it seemed too little.

"Wait-" Blake said, halting him mid shout. "Listen?"

They took a few seconds of a break to press their ears back against the door. The barking had stopped and Charlie's heart fell as well. Until he heard something else. Voices and movement.

He couldn't make out the words or even if they were male or female, but he was pretty sure they must've been within hearing distance.

Charlie resumed his shouting with fervour.

It didn't take too long.

Within few minutes Charlie could make out a male voice, cursing and praying at the same time. It was close and it acknowledged their existence, calling out to them to wait.

Charlie heard things being moved around. Loud grunts, a younger voice giving directions, sounding worried. A dog barked somewhere real close.

When the steel door above them gave a strange groan, Charlie noted a sliver of light penetrating through the sudden opening. Within moments, the door flung open, the sunlight blinding both Charlie and Blake.

Blake had scrambled up the short ladder first, then helped Charlie.

The smell of fresh air just after heavy rain hit Charlie in the nostrils as he blinked against the sunshine. The clouds were gone. In front of him stood a rather dirty and flabbergasted farmer, next to him a young boy and a dog. Charlie was never before so happy to see a couple of strangers eyeing him with such confusion. They were alive and they were free.

"Dear Lord," it was Blake's voice that brought his sudden happiness to a halt. Charlie looked at the man with confusion.

"Doc?"

But Blake wasn't looking ahead. He had turned around and was looking at the same sight as the farmer and the boy. At the house... or rather what was left of it.

"My home..." the farmer uttered and Charlie swallowed. The house...

It was gone. Or rather, half of it was lost, as if something cut through it. The other half stood in place as if nothing happened. Charlie took a step backwards and blinked. He could see inside of what must've been a living room. One third of the room was gone, the wall torn in a strange pattern. What made Charlie shake his head in utter bewilderment was the porcelain vase standing in the corner of the room, unharmed. A picture on the wall... a bit crooked, but still hanging. Charlie exchanged a look with Blake, as if asking 'are you seeing the same thing as me?'

Blake gave a small nod, his jaw clenched tight, before he turned back towards the farmer.

The man just stood in place, staring. His face was pale and Charlie could see his hands were shaking. The son, a boy no older than thirteen, was crouching on the ground, a protective hold on his dog, a huge shepherd.

"Are you alright?" Blake asked, reaching out towards the farmer. The man shook his head.

"My house..."

Blake cringed.

"Yes. I'm sorry for that. But... are you alright? You weren't inside, were you?"

"N-no. We were out in the fields. Some of our sheep ran off so we were looking for them, when..."

"We saw the thing. It was huge!" the boy piped in and Charlie couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"You didn't get caught in the hail?"

"What hail?" the farmer asked, confused. "We just... saw the to-tornado."

"We hid behind the tractor," the boy added helpfully.

"Good thinking," Blake praised, adding a bit of a smile. Charlie knew he was thinking the man and the son were incredibly lucky to be far away. If the tornado decided to turn their way... the tractor wouldn't have helped. Based on the paleness of the farmer's face, the man had realized that as well.

"Was there anyone in the house? Your wife?" Charlie didn't want to ask, but if there was a chance there was a person inside the ruins... they needed to act. Thankfully the farmer shook his head.

"N-no. Mary has been gone for... almost a decade. All I have is Joshua... and this house. What... what will I do now?"

There was a momentary silence. None of them knew what to say, everyone in too much of a shock about what happened to be thinking straight. Finally at least Blake's instincts kicked in.

"Why don't you sit down for a moment?" he led the man a few feet away to sit on a pile of something that might've been a chicken coop at some point. "Here. I'm sure it will be alright. The house can be restored. As long as you and your boy were unharmed, it's all good."

Blake patted the man on the shoulder and Charlie couldn't but agree. They were lucky.

"How did you get into our cellar?" It was the boy who asked, the dog next to him sniffing suspiciously at Charlie's shoes.

"We were on the way back home, when... when we saw the tornado," Charlie said, then explained how they found the door and hid.

"Wow, that must've been scary!" The boy's eyes lit up, the excitement only a young boy could have at hearing about something that would send adults cringing. "What was the tornado like from so close? Did you see a flying cow or something?"

"Uh," Charlie was a bit taken aback by the rush of words, suddenly reminded of his youngest brother. "Sorry, I... didn't really have much time to look at it. There were things flying around... though I don't remember seeing a cow," he said with a small smile. "Maybe a kangaroo," he added with a wink and Joshua chuckled.

"Cool! What happened to your arm? Did that flying kangaroo kick you?"

Charlie chuckled as well.

"Nah. Just some debris. Lots of wood flying around."

"Yeah," Josh grimaced, looking around grimly. "Man, the cleanup will be hell," he sighed and Charlie couldn't help but agree. The farm was a mess.

"Hey... we will try to help," Charlie said. "The least we can do. Your cellar saved our lives. And thank you for helping us get out," Charlie turned towards the farmer. The man shrugged, nodding towards the dog.

"It was Buddy. He must've heard you or something... started barking like crazy when we came to the house."

"Ah well, I think we might owe Buddy hrtr a big bone then," Blake said with a smile, but gave the farmer a squeeze of the shoulder. "Still though, we are thankful you got us out so quickly."

Charlie nodded his own thanks.

The farmer waved them off. It was clear his mind was on other things. Like where they will be sleeping, whether the house could be repaired... how many things they lost. However, when the man's look turned to his son who was currently trying to stop the dog from digging through the debris, his eyes softened and Charlie saw how thankful he really was. After all, all they lost were just material possessions. The most precious thing the man had was safe and sound.

Charlie's throat tightened. He still didn't know if his loved ones were alright.

"Doc... " he spoke and Blake turned to him. "We need to go. The others..."

Blake's eyes darkened with worry.

"Yes. We need to go," he agreed.

"I'm sorry, Mr.-"

"Frank Porter," the man said, a look of understanding on his face.

"I'm Lucien Blake... and this is Charlie Davis. I would love to stay and help you out, but... we need to check on our families. I'll stop by and offer any help required as soon as possible-"

Mr. Porter just waved his hand, some of the colour returning to his face.

"No, of course. Go. We will be fine. Uh, actually... do you have any means to get home?"

That was a good question.

Both Charlie and Blake shared a concerned look before their heads turned towards where they had last remembered of parking the car.

"You gotta be kidding me," Charlie uttered, while Blake cursed.

"Bloody hell!"

They both stared at the car, parked under a tree maybe a hundred yards from the house. There was the uprooted gum tree lying in front of the car and part of a fence lying on the front window, though it didn't break it. From the distance the car looked absolutely unharmed.

Closer inspection revealed few scratches and two sizeable dents from the hail at the back of the car, but... no other damage.

Charlie stared with wide eyes at the undamaged front window as Blake pushed off the plank from the fence.

"I'll be damned," he muttered again, frowning. The car hadn't moved an inch from when they had ran off from it. "We could've just... stayed inside," Charlie voiced what both of them were undoubtedly thinking.

Blake grimaced.

"Yes... but we could hardly have known that."

Charlie subconsciously reached towards his hurt shoulder. He could've skipped all that pain, all the terror when Blake was caught in the flashback. For a moment he wished the car had been a wreck, so it all haven't been for nothing.

"Come on, Charlie," Blake must've read his thoughts on his face. "We should be thankful the car is alright."

"Well, it's definitely in better condition than the two of us," Charlie muttered grumpily. Blake chuckled, it was hard to disagree with that.

"True. On the bright side, we can use it to get home."

At the mention of home, Charlie's ire at the car and the senselessness of their whole situation evaporated.

"Yeah. We should get going," he agreed, serious.

Blake nodded. They once again thanked Parker and his son and Charlie promised the boy he would stop by and bring a treat for the dog as well. It was the least he could do.

They settled in the car and there was a moment of silence before Blake turned on the ignition. Charlie could've sworn he heard the Doc utter a quiet prayer of thanks when it worked. The engine rumbled to life and Charlie let out a sigh of relief.

Blake pulled out of the driveway, going much slower than either of them liked. But there was debris on the dirt road and neither of them wanted to risk damaging the car, least they'd be stranded there. Not whilst Jean was home alone with a tornado possibly heading her way.

Blake had made it off of the dirt road to the main one and dared to add a bit of speed, although he was still leaning over the front wheel, watching the road with eagle eyes for debris or hell, kangaroos. Who knew what those buggers would be doing when faced with natural disaster. Most likely jump in front of cars en masse, just to cause more havoc.

The ride was mostly smooth. It seemed like the tornado hadn't followed the road, instead took off a bit to the right. Charlie could see the devastation it left behind, though he was thankful it was mostly just fields or plain ground.

After about a ten minute drive it was obvious the tornado had turned and crossed the road, because there was debris laying around. Blake slowed the car almost to a crawl, but he still managed to run over some branches. The car jumped a bit and Charlie let out an involuntary gasp. He had almost forgotten about the shoulder... but it was getting stiff and any sudden movement felt like punching a fresh bruise.

"I'm sorry," Blake apologized and it was clear he was trying to drive even more carefully.

Charlie wanted to say it was alright, but his shoulder hurt and somehow Blake's apology rubbed him the wrong way. He didn't need coddling. He wanted to get home and make sure everyone was safe.

"I'm fine," he grunted. "You can drive faster, Doc."

Blake shot him a questioning look.

"Are you sure?" His tone was calm and not at all patronizing. Just a concerned friend. Charlie sighed and some of the irritation left him.

"Yeah. I'm a bit sore," he admitted, but quickly added: "It's loads better than it was before though. I can handle a rougher ride if it means we arrive earlier."

Blake gave him another look, then nodded. Charlie felt the car speed up a bit, though Blake obviously still tried to keep the ride as smooth as possible. Charlie wasn't as stubborn as to protest that.

They went another few minutes in silence, Blake focusing on the road so as not to be surprised by debris or some stray animals, while Charlie kept his eyes on the horizon and the sky. There were dark clouds in front of them, but other than that Charlie didn't see any sign of the tornado funnel. Even those dark clouds were starting to part and if he looked into the rear-view mirror, he saw sunlight and an almost clear sky.

"Unbelievable," Charlie muttered.

"What?"

"The weather. If I hadn't seen the tornado... I wouldn't have believed it."

Blake nodded.

"Yes, it was... something to behold."

"The sound it made..." Charlie shook his head. "I thought the sky was falling," he admitted.

Blake cleared his throat.

"Charlie?" he sounded suddenly nervous and Charlie looked at him with concern.

"Yeah?"

"About what happened in the cellar..." Blake paused and Charlie blinked. He wouldn't lie. The whole thing scared him pretty bad. Seeing the Doc so out of control, seeing how easily that panic could've cost them their lives. But Charlie didn't want to blame the man. He understood there were things from the past that could haunt even the best, strongest person. War did that to people.

"It's alright, Doc."

Blake shook his head.

"I don't remember what happened, but... I know what I thought was happening. And I am sorry for whatever I said or did at the moment."

"You didn't... well, you didn't say anything, Doc. Just tried to get out."

Blake swallowed, then nodded.

For a moment there was silence in the car.

"I..."Charlie started but paused. He wasn't sure how to approach the subject, if he even should. The last thing he wanted was to cause another flashback while Blake was driving. But he couldn't pretend he wasn't curious and somehow... trying to figure out what made Blake try to open the door seemed better than thinking about the pain in his shoulder or worry about their friends and family.

"Ask away, Charlie," Blake said and Charlie blinked, taken a bit aback. "I think I owe you an explanation at least."

Charlie shook his head.

"You don't owe me anything, Doc," he said quickly. "But... I won't lie. I was wondering what sent _you _ scrambling and trying to face a tornado."

"If that isn't too... painful. I totally understand if you don't want to talk about it," Charlie hurriedly assured Blake.

Blake seemed to be mulling over the answer, and Charlie thought maybe he should just change the subject. Maybe he would get an explanation once they were home and everyone was safe and sound, once they settled in the living room with a glass of something strong and warming. Blake however surprised him.

"It was about three months into my stay in the internment camp," Blake spoke up and Charlie looked at him, startled. "I tried to keep my head down, but... I suppose you know by now that's not one of my strongest suits," Blake said with a small self-deprecating smile. Charlie snorted.

"No kidding," he muttered with a smirk, but that quickly vanished as Blake continued speaking.

"The Japanese seemed to have several favourite types of punishment. One of them... probably the one requiring the least participation on their side... were the pits."

And so Blake described the hole in the ground which was to become his home for several days on occasion... or even weeks in the worst case.

"It was close to the end of the war when there was a surprise bombing of the camp. Unfortunately, it was at a time when I dared to disobey one of the guards and I was thrown into the hole." Blake paused and Charlie wondered if this was really the best time for the story. But the Doc seemed to have the car well under control, despite the somehow farewell look in his eyes.

"You don't have to tell me anything, Doc," Charlie spoke softly.

Blake gave a tight-lipped smile, but seemed to ignore the out Charlie gave him.

"I felt the ground shaking and dirt was falling down. People panicked and the sound of falling bombs was deafening in the night. I tried to get out, then I just tried to find a safe place and prayed for it all to end. I was hoping we would be liberated."

"You weren't," Charlie said and it was a statement rather than a question. It was clear from Blake's face that his nightmare didn't end there.

"No... we weren't. While one of the bombs indeed managed to damage the fence and several prisoners had escaped, others were shot during the attempt. It was chaos and I didn't really know what happened. Even now I don't know how many of us perished."

Charlie grimaced. Here he thought his life was hard at moments. Yet he haven't really experienced war. His father had died in service as a copper, not in some foreign country. Charlie didn't know if that was any relief, but he was glad right now he or his brothers didn't have to wonder whether they would be called to serve. He hoped no war would come for a very long time.

"That's what the tornado reminded you of today? The bombing?" Charlie asked after a minute.

Blake nodded but Charlie could see there was more to his story. Still, he didn't want to pry.

"I had spent a lot of time in the hole, Charlie. The longest was over thirty days... for stealing food. That... that was too long of a time, but... it wasn't the worst."

Charlie looked at Blake with some confusion. How could spending such a long time in isolation not be one of the worst experiences? Charlie was sure he would go bonkers only after several days.

"What was?" he heard himself asking before he even realized he really didn't want to know the answer.

"When the fence broke and prisoners were trying to escape, some were shot. Others... the ones whose barracks were damaged and couldn't be guarded..." Blake swallowed and Charlie felt the car slow down a bit.

"Doc?"

"They were herded toward the holes and pushed in. It didn't matter if they were trying to get away or not. It didn't matter if they were injured. At the moment the guards knew that the holes were impossible to escape."

Charlie cringed, his imagination supplying images he didn't want to see.

"How... how many?"

"By morning there were four of us in the hole. Only three of us got out in the end," Blake admitted.

Charlie had a myriad of questions on his tongue, but he didn't dare to ask even one. He didn't _want _to know.

"I'm sorry, Doc," he said finally, when Blake gracefully didn't elaborate.

"Me too," Blake said in a slightly shaky voice. "I haven't had such a flashback in... well, quite a long time actually," he said after clearing his throat. "I thought it was all over."

"Maybe it is," Charlie piped up. Blake threw him a curious look and Charlie started to shrug, when a twitch in his shoulder made him think better.

"I mean... how likely it is we get another tornado and get stuck in a cellar?"

Blake snorted, the corner of his mouth lifting lightly.

"I hope zero."

"Same here," Charlie admitted. "What even are the odds of a tornado?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. Such a huge land and the blasted thing had to rush right over their heads.

"I would say bigger than we expected this morning," Blake quipped, his tone somehow lighter, as if telling about his plight to another person helped. Charlie hoped it did at least.


	4. Chapter 4

The house was still there. By the time they reached the outskirts of Ballarat, the sky had practically cleared up. Charlie couldn't wait for the car to stop. His damp clothes were clinging to his skin uncomfortably and his shoulder was becoming more and more stiff. While it definitely didn't hurt as much as before, Charlie realized that the initial relief from the pain won't last and the discomfort might linger for longer than he would've liked.

But none of that was important as Blake stopped the car and with one glance at Charlie rushed out and towards the house.

Charlie took a bit longer to get out. He looked at the house, noting that the roof was still there. He could see few smaller tree branches laying on the ground by the wall, one of the window panes cracked but not broken. There was a mess of leaves and a bit of garbage from the overturned garbage can, but otherwise it looked as if a bad storm swooped in. Not a tornado.

Charlie's relief was even stronger as he stepped inside the house and heard Jean's voice, followed by quiet reassurance from Blake.

Charlie took off his shoes, not wanting to track in any mud although one look at his pants and shirt covered in half dried mud and dirt told him it was an unrealistic hope. He followed the voices and found Jean and Blake in the doorway to the winter garden. Jean had a broom in one hand, while the other was running over Blake's face as she traced the split lip. She was taking in his form and didn't appear to be happy about what she saw.

"I'm alright, dear," Blake reassured her, taking her hand in his and smiling softly. "As long as nothing happened to you, I'm absolutely wonderful."

Jean snorted.

"I wish I can say the same, but you look as if you came from a mud fight. What on earth were you doing, Lucien? Playing out in the rain?" she half scolded him, although there was nothing but warmth and concern in her tone.

Charlie couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. This was such a picture of normality that the whole event they went through suddenly seemed like a bad dream. Unreal.

Jean turned towards him, her mouth already opening for another scolding, when she took notice of his state. Her eyes went wide and Charlie felt himself blush. With taking the header into the mud earlier, he must've been looking like a monster from the lake or something. He cringed at the thought of how Blake's car seat looked just now.

"Dear Lord, Charlie! What happened to you?" Jean exclaimed and cast a somehow accusatory glance towards Blake before rushing over to Charlie.

"Uh-" he stuttered, then took a step back as she was reaching out. He didn't mean to, but the memory of Blake popping that shoulder in was enough for him not to want anyone touching him for a while. An idea of a hug was out of question.

Jean paused, her hand dropping to her side. Charlie felt instantly bad about it and tried to give her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. Just... don't want you to get all dirty," he said.

"A little bit late for that I suppose," she muttered and Charlie noted several dark smudges on her otherwise pristine dress. It seemed that Blake's relief at seeing her unharmed overpowered his sense of appropriateness.

Blake cleared his throat and Jean sighed, but didn't comment.

Her face turned into a frown though as she took in Charlie's whole appearance, her eyes settling on the arm tucked into his shirt.

"Are you alright Charlie? You _didn't_ get into a fight, did you?" she looked at Charlie then at Blake with disbelief.

"No, of course not," Charlie protested while Blake just raised an eyebrow. Well, technically they _did _fight, but... Charlie gave a shake of his head. He wasn't going to blame Blake for that.

Jean still looked a bit uncertain, although it had probably more to do with Blake's intense look and silence than anything else. This time it was Charlie who cleared his throat.

"We... got caught up in a... tornado. I suppose you haven't seen it?"

"Excuse me?" Jean blinked. "Did you say a _tornado_?" she looked back at Blake and Charlie rolled his eyes. Was she thinking he hit his head too or what?

Luckily Blake decided to jump in.

"Yes. Unfortunately, we had the pleasure of being in the way of one," he said as he threw a look at the winter garden. Charlie could see there was broken glass on the floor, but not much else from where he stood.

"I take it you didn't see it?"

Jean shook her head, still looking at them with disbelief.

"There was a storm and hail. The wind must've thrown a rock or a branch at the window and it broke, but I didn't see any other damage to the house. And I definitely didn't see a tornado."

"Lucky you," Charlie thought, relief slowly flooding his system. Now that he knew the house was standing and Jean was alright, he just needed to make sure that Rose didn't get in the way of danger either and that the police station was still in one piece. Maybe they were lucky and the tornado missed the city altogether. If he could just take a hot shower and sit down for a bit, it would be wonderful.

"I need to call the station," Charlie excused himself and turned around to head for the phone, when Jean's voice stopped him.

"It's no use. The line is down ever since the storm."

Charlie turned back with a frown.

"So we don't know what happened in the town?"

Jean shook her head.

"I'm afraid not."

Blake and Charlie exchanged a glance.

That wasn't good. There might be many more people in need of help and they wouldn't know unless they went to the town. With a sigh, Charlie felt the image of a warm and comfortable bed dissipating.

"Doc? Could you drive me to the station?" he asked wearily. Blake grimaced.

"Why don't you let me take a look at your shoulder first? Then we will both need to change into something... cleaner and drier."

Charlie wanted to protest that it was an unnecessary loss of time, but he could just imagine Lawson taking one look at him and send him packing. He was hardly an image of a presentable police officer right now. Still, the idea of Blake messing with his shoulder again wasn't something he looked forward to.

"The shoulder's fine, Doc. I can just take a quick shower, then we should go-"

Blake was already shaking his head.

"I am not driving you anywhere in this state. Come on, it won't take but five minutes. You will lose more time arguing."

"He's right, Charlie. You can hardly go to town looking like you were mugged and someone broke your arm."

"It's not broken," Charlie protested, somehow feebly as Jean had already put her hand on his back and was giving him a soft nudge. Charlie cringed at the movement, then relented and followed Blake to the surgery.

"When you finish, just leave all the dirty clothes in the bathroom, both of you," she said and headed back to the winter garden to finish sweeping up the mess.

Charlie dutifully followed Blake, his muttered protest that he was fine and they should get moving falling on deaf ears. It was obvious despite their talk Blake still felt some guilt over the whole flashback situation so Charlie gave up. If making sure his shoulder was still attached was what it took for Blake to start focusing on other matters, so be it.

Charlie gingerly sat himself down on the exam bed, grimacing when he saw the smudge of dirt he already created. Blake seemed to ignore it totally. No wonder though, he was leaving some muddy footsteps himself.

"Jean will kill us both," Charlie muttered as Blake was helping him take off his shirt.

"No, she won't," Blake reassured him with a smile. "We just have to play our cards right," Blake said in a lower tone, casting a careful glance towards the door. He had a mischievous smirk on his face and Charlie couldn't help but look at him expectantly.

"What cards?" he asked, confused.

"The hurt card. When she sees the mess, just... look pitiful."

Charlie grimaced. That was the last thing he wanted to.

"Exactly like that," Blake said, pointing at his face and Charlie huffed.

"I'm not pitiful," he protested. Tired, dirty and hurting, yes. Nothing else though.

Blake raised an eyebrow, then his eyes slipped down towards Charlie's shoulder. The mirth had disappeared and Charlie followed the look.

He cringed.

His shoulder was a palette of colours which he didn't really fancy seeing on a human being, especially not on his own flesh.

In a spur of curiosity, he turned his head a bit more in an attempt to peak at the back of his shoulder where he had felt the branch hit him. Of course, his whole body protested against the movement and he cringed.

"Careful," Blake commented, then proceeded to check the bruised flesh front and back. After several minutes of checking his range of motion, Charlie was finally allowed to put his arm down and put back the shirt, even if just so he wouldn't go strolling around the house half naked.

"What's the verdict?" he asked as Blake was browsing through one of his cabinets.

"Got it," the man muttered and walked back to Charlie with a triangular bandage and a bottle of pills. "Ah, we should probably wait with the sling until after you change your clothes," Blake said, noting the muddy prints on the exam bed.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Doc," Charlie mumbled. Blake waved him off.

"It looks like we managed to get the joint back in the socket, though there is some loss of movement."

Charlie frowned, not liking the sound of it.

"What does it mean?"

"There can be some tearing or other damage, but I can't really tell without an x-ray. We should also wait a bit for the swelling to go down."

"But... you don't think it's anything permanent, right?" Charlie asked, feeling a bit of panic at the thought he could get permanently benched or something.

Blake put a reassuring hand on his good shoulder.

"Don't worry about that now. I can't say for sure without the x-ray, but I think the damage isn't that bad. And even with a limited range for a while... you are left handed, aren't you?"

Charlie nodded, suddenly grateful that a thing that caused him so much trouble at school as a kid might've come handy right now.

"See, no need to worry then. As long as you keep it in a sling and don't strain it, you should be back on active duty in few weeks.

Charlie was glad to hear that. Then he blinked.

"Wait. Few weeks?"

"I can hardly let you chase after thieves or killers one handed now, can I?"

"Doc!" Charlie whined and Blake chuckled. "It's not me who's always chasing after killers," he pointed out grumpily.

Blake just shrugged and Charlie was suddenly envious of that movement. Damn, but it would be a pain to be stuck behind the desk for several weeks. There was no sense in crying about it now though. He needed to get changed and ready to head out. Without the phone, there was no telling how bad the town was hit and he would be damned if he went to bed like an invalid when someone could be in need of help.

Charlie slid off the exam bed, the arm wrapped around his waist for the moment and headed for the door then paused and turned around.

"Thanks, Doc. Uh... are you also heading into town to check if anyone needs help?"

Blake gave a thoughtful nod.

"I'd better. Especially with the phone line down."

"Will you wait for me to change? I need to stop at the station and see if Lawson needs me."

Blake frowned.

"I'm not sure you should be going to work right now."

Charlie looked at Blake with surprise and a bit of annoyance.

"I'm fine, Doc. And if the tornado hit the town, Lawson will need everyone at hand."

Blake raised an eyebrow at the last word and Charlie rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean."

"I do. I still don't think it's a wise idea."

Charlie let out a frustrated sigh. He wasn't asking for permission, all he was asking for was a ride.

"I need to be there," he insisted and hoped Blake would surrender. The last thing he wanted was to have to walk to town, but he was willing to do that if needed. He couldn't just stay at home as if nothing happened and waltz into work the next day as he was scheduled with a whistle on his lips.

Blake must've seen his decision, because he finally relented.

"Alright, I'll drive you to the station." Before Charlie could thank him, he added: "That way I can make sure Matthew will keep you at the desk."

Charlie huffed, but thought it was better than nothing.

Charlie headed off to the shower, cringing as he was trying to undress without moving his shoulder that much. It was getting stiffer by the minute and like a bonus he could feel the beginning of a throbbing headache. Just great.

At least the shower was blissfully hot, warming up his body. He wasn't even aware how the wet clothes and the mud made him feel chilled until he felt the water hit his skin. For a moment Charlie got lost in the comfortable feeling and he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. He heard some noise from outside but it was lost in the spray of water. He almost fell asleep until the water started turning cold.

It was time to get out.

Only when he was drying himself off with the towel did he realize that he forgot to bring a fresh set of clothes. Cursing, Charlie wrapped himself into a towel and carefully peeked out of the bathroom door. The coast was clear and Charlie quickly made it to his room, relieved that he didn't encounter Jean on the way. Though he did pause for a second when he heard a familiar, yet slightly unexpected voice coming from the living room.

Charlie rushed putting on the clothes. Well, he tried to rush, but it was hard with one arm hanging off his side practically useless. While the hot water was great for cleaning him of mud, it seemed that his shoulder was just throbbing harder. He could already imagine how much fun work or heck even just sleep would be in the following days.

Charlie looked into his closet and for a moment tried to decide what shirt to take. He didn't much feel like doing up buttons, but if the stiffness of the joint was any indication, he would be happy later on if he managed to raise the blasted arm halfway. He didn't want to imagine trying to pull a shirt over his head later on. Not to mention... he was heading to work. Lawson would most likely send him right back home if he wasn't dressed for the job.

Taking his uniform meant a few more agonizing minutes of dressing and buttons. All the while he could hear voices from the hall, sounding urgent.

"Bloody hell," Charlie cursed when he realized he got a button wrong and the whole row was off. Gritting his teeth he thought 'screw it' and stepped out into the hall, coming face to face with Blake.

"Ah, here you are. I'm afraid there is a bit of change in plans," Blake said and Charlie frowned.

"What change? Was it Ned who came?"

Blake nodded.

"I'm afraid I will have to go and we won't have time to stop by the town."

"What do you mean? Is everyone alright?"

Blake gave a reassuring nod.

"Yes, don't worry. Ned told me the tornado didn't reach the town, it vanished at the outskirts. Rose and everyone at the station are alright. But the phone lines on the east are down and it seems the tornado managed to do some damage outside of Ballarat."

Charlie felt relief when he heard that Rose and hell, even Lawson, were alright. And that the town wasn't damaged so bad, although if the phone lines were down there would be some chaos. He hoped electricity was at least working everywhere and that there wasn't any flooding.

"There was a hail storm in the town and people are a bit nervous however," Blake continued.

"So where are you going? Help out at the hospital?"

Blake shook his head.

"Most of the doctors will be heading there, but with the phones down, the most affected people can't call for help. Matthew had the idea of sending out several cars to check on the farms and houses on the path of the tornado and use the radio system to call help if needed."

"Ned stopped by to collect you?" Charlie realized.

"Yes. Jean is coming with me, so I'll take the car."

Charlie's frown deepened.

"Why is she going with you? Is it safe?" he blurted out.

"The storm has passed, Charlie. And Jean can assist me if needed until an ambulance can arrive. After all, she has plenty of experience."

Well, that all made perfect sense. Except for one thing.

"How am I supposed to get to the station then? Can you drop me off?"

Blake grimaced and Charlie knew he wouldn't like his answer.

"Listen, Charlie. I was thinking... if the phones don't work there's hardly anything you can do at work. You aren't scheduled until tomorrow... Matthew won't need you there. Why don't you stay home and rest up?"

Charlie blinked.

Was Blake really suggesting he did _nothing?_ When there were people around needing help?

"Lucien?" Jean's voice called from behind the corner and she appeared dressed up in her coat and obviously ready to go. "Ned just got a call that there might be a medical emergency at Jason's farm. We need to go," she said, giving Charlie an apologetic look.

"I'll be there in a minute," Blake said and Charlie wanted to snap that Ned can bloody well wait or give him a ride first, even though he realized that was childish and most of all selfish.

"Doc, come on. I can still help out!" Charlie protested, finding his voice when Jean simply nodded and headed outside, obviously not wanting to be in the middle of their conversation.

"I don't doubt that, Charlie," Blake said and his tone was soothing, a hand raised in a calming gesture. Charlie didn't appreciate it. Especially not after the day he had so far. Everything that happened through the weekend, the feeling of estrangement from his own family. Ray's accusations. Running for their lives... and all of that just so he could now be sidelined. Once again pushed aside.

It was ridiculous of course. Charlie very much doubted Blake wanted to make him feel useless but he couldn't help it. If Lawson decided to send him home, so be it. He at least tried to offer his help. But Charlie was not going to accept being sidelined by Blake for no good reason.

"Let me come with you? I can catch a ride back to town at some point."

"I'd much more prefer if you stayed here," Blake said with a sigh. A car horn sounded through the air, startling both of them. Blake glanced towards the window, then turned back to Charlie.

"I'm sorry, I don't have time to argue, Charlie. Here... let me put on this sling at least. If you decide to catch a ride to the town, I can hardly stop you, even though I would advise against it."

While Blake was speaking, he reached out and softly manoeuvred the triangle bandage under Charlie's arm, then around his neck and tied it all up over his collar bone.

Charlie wanted to growl at the man for leaving him behind, but the gentleness of the action somehow took the wind out of his sail and he had to begrudgingly thank Blake in the end.

"Is it comfortable?" Blake asked and Charlie nodded, still frowning. Blake sighed and patted him on his good shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Charlie, really. Best thing you can do right now is take a few of these," Blake pulled a small bottle with pills out of his pocket and handed it to Charlie. "And ice that shoulder. That should help with the swelling and discomfort."

The horn honked once again, impatiently.

"I must go. Whatever you decide to do, keep that sling on and don't overdo it. Alright?"

Charlie grunted his assent and waved.

"Be careful, Doc," he called after the man as a last moment thought. Even if he was annoyed at the situation, he didn't want anyone to get hurt. He wasn't sure how smart it was for Blake to be out there and going into possible dangerous situations if only an hour or two ago the man was lost inside his own head. He bit down the urge to rush out after them and insist on coming along to keep an eye on them. He wouldn't be doing anyone favours by not trusting Blake's judgment about his own health. Even though the Doc seemed to be comfortable with deciding for Charlie on where his own limits were.

With a sigh, Charlie walked up to the entrance. Both cars were gone.

He opened the door and stepped outside anyway. The air smelled of rain, even though the ground was already starting to heat up. The sun was shining brightly and Charlie could've sworn he caught sight of a magpie sitting down on a nearby tree. He glared at the offending bird, feeling his irritation grow. The sky was clear and except for two small clouds in the distance there was no sign of the storm. The only evidence left behind the few broken branches and leaves littering the ground here and there.

With a sigh, Charlie took a few more steps outside, thinking about his options.

He could go to the nearest bus stop and wait, though if there was some trouble on the road it was most likely the bus would be cancelled. He could walk... maybe wave down a car. But the station wasn't that close and unfortunately the road to town wasn't the most frequented. He could end up walking for an hour straight. Not the most inspiring thought with his shoulder throbbing.

Charlie's eyes caught sight of the bike. It was the one Jean and Mattie used on occasion... the one Charlie almost broke his nose on when Blake got one of his genius ideas to test out how a dead body could be moved.

Charlie grimaced. He never mastered the art of riding a bike one handed or worse, handless, for more than a few minutes. All his attempts as a child ended up with falling or crashing. Not ideal in his current situation.

With a sigh, Charlie realized walking was his only decent option. If luck was on his side, he would encounter someone on the road and not get run over.

His shoulder twitched and Charlie felt the bottle of pills in his pocket. No, that wasn't a good idea. He wasn't sure what pills the doc gave him and the last thing he wanted was to fall asleep somewhere on the road. What did the man recommend before running off?

Oh yes. Ice.

Charlie could do that.

He returned back inside the house and went straight to the freezer. He was glad Blake had invested in the kitchen appliances, even if it was just to impress Jean. Charlie took out the aluminium ice cube tray and for a moment searched for some bag he could use or a towel he could wrap it all in. It was a hassle, especially one handed and several ice cubes ended up on the floor, but with some swearing and through gritted teeth Charlie managed to fill a plastic bag and tie it off.

He gingerly put it on his shoulder, then let out a long sigh. Leaning his head against the door of the fridge, he closed his eyes and for several minutes just let the ice do its work. While the initial cold was jarring, especially with him being warmed up from the shower, the numbing effect came soon enough. He wished he could stay like that for an hour or two. Maybe Blake was right. How much help could he offer right now? Wouldn't he be just in the way?

That last thought made him shudder. This weekend he felt in the way just a bit too much. His own family... his kid brothers thought him to be someone who abandoned them. His father's chair at the head of the table was taken up by a man Charlie felt nothing but disdain for. And now... he was sidelined from his work and newfound family.

Charlie groaned.

Those thoughts were stupid. He was pitying himself for no reason and that didn't accomplish anything. If his dad saw him now... he wouldn't be happy or proud. More likely disappointed.

Charlie opened his eyes and straightened. He needed to start moving. He was too restless to lie down, his conscience wouldn't allow him any sleep anyway. The walk to the town started to look more and more inviting. If nothing else it might help clear his head a bit.

Decision made, Charlie dropped the bag with ice into the sink and headed for the door. He was closing it when he saw an old beat up Chevy pull into the driveway. The car came to a halt only few feet from him and Charlie was just about to berate the driver for being so reckless, when he saw the woman and two boys on the back seat.

He didn't recognize the woman, but based on the impatient and nervous look on her face he assumed she needed help.

She got out of the car quickly, glancing at the back seat and gesturing for the boys to stay inside for a moment, then turning to Charlie.

"Is Dr. Blake here?" she asked without a preamble and Charlie grimaced.

"I'm sorry, he left a few minutes ago."

The woman cursed then proceeded to sit back on the driver's seat. Charlie hesitated only for a second before crossing the distance and leaning down to the driver's window.

"Do you need some help?" he looked at the back seat. There were two boys, one could've been around twelve, the other maybe seven. The younger boy had a bloody towel wrapped around his head and although he didn't seem to be in too much pain, he was pale and wide eyed.

The woman hesitated for a second, taking in the top of Charlie's uniform as well as the sling.

"If you don't have some medical training, I doubt you can help, officer," she said a bit snappily.

Charlie was taken aback a bit and it must've shown. The woman shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I just need to get Timmy to a doctor. This was closer than the hospital."

"I understand," Charlie nodded, recognizing her need to hurry. The engine of her car was turned on again and Charlie realized if he didn't say something, his chance at a ride would vanish. "Miss? Wait!"

The woman looked up questioningly and Charlie swallowed.

"Can I take a ride with you? I... need to get to work, but the phones are down and Dr. Blake took the car."

She ran her eyes up and down his figure, pausing at the sling.

"You sure you want to go to work instead of the hospital?"

Charlie nodded, his lips turning up into a smile as she let out a sigh and nodded towards the passenger seat.

Charlie quickly scrambled to the door and settled down. He barely closed the door and she was already driving off.

"Thank you, Miss-"

"Sheila Anderson," she said, then cast a quick glance at the back seat. "Those are my boys. Timmy is the one bleeding all over the backseat. And Jake is the one who will have to clean it up before their father returns home from Sydney."

Charlie raised an eyebrow and turned to look at both boys. Timmy was staring at his uniform wide eyed, while Jake nervously shuffled on the seat.

"I'm Charlie Davis. Thanks for giving me a ride, Mrs. Anderson."

She nodded and there was a moment of silence, interrupted by a curious voice.

"Are you a policeman?"

"Ah, yes. I'm a senior sergeant actually."

"Cool! Can you arrest people?"

For some reason, Jake startled at the question. Curious, Charlie looked at Sheila. A small smile touched her lips.

"Yes, I can. But only if they do something wrong," Charlie explained.

Timmy frowned, then winced as the movement pulled at his wound. Jake scolded him, but somehow didn't dare to speak up.

"You can't arrest Jake. He did nothing wrong. It was all my idea!" the younger boy said fiercely and Charlie could see the look of surprise crossing Jake's face in the rear-view mirror. Sheila rolled her eyes, but kept silent, her focus on the road. Charlie decided to play along then.

"What was your idea?"

"Nothing! He's just confused," Jake finally spoke and pulled at Timmy's arm, trying to shush him. "He's hurt, can't you see?"

Charlie could, so he nodded.

"How did you get hurt, Timmy?"

Now both boys fell silent, exchanging a guilty look. For a moment Charlie was taken back ten years, when he was sitting on the stairs, his two youngest brothers in front of him, dirty as hell and refusing to tell him what they were doing. They shared the same look between them.

"You know, maybe I should just take you both to the station and call your father?" Charlie bluffed. Sheila next to him gave him a look that clearly said 'you wouldn't dare' but once again she didn't protest out loud. All she said was: "Come on boys. You better tell sergeant Davis the truth. It's not like your father won't notice the broken door and the scar on Timmy's head."

It was as if a dam broke.

"It wasn't my fault!" Jake shouted, while Timmy sniffled.

"You told me I was a chicken!"

"I did not!"

"You so did!"

"Well, what's wrong with chickens? If you'd been one, we could have made a soup from you!"

"I don't want to be soup!" Timmy screeched. "Mom!"

Sheila sighed.

"Jake! Apologize right this instant!"

Charlie cringed. The car's engine was loud, but the kids were much louder. Suddenly he wished he had just taken the walk. An hour or two of fresh air and no company started to sound great actually.

Jake sighed and at his mother's urging uttered a grumbled apology. Timmy sniffled again, then gave a pitiful moan, his hand reaching up to his head. The towel was still wrapped tight around his head. It was red but to Charlie's relief it looked like the redness wasn't spreading anymore.

"I just wanted to see the 'nado," he grumbled.

"Tornado," Jake corrected him. "And I told you it was only for grownups!"

"You are not a grownup either!"

"I so am!"

The argument began once again, until Sheila's booming voice put a halt to it.

"No more arguing!" she warned. "Or you will wish your father was there instead of me."

Both boys went silent. Charlie wanted to chuckle, but one warning look from Sheila told him it was smarter to stay silent.

"What the boys are trying to tell you, Sergeant Davis, is that despite my strict order to go and hide in the cellar while I was trying to get our dogs inside, they snuck out to watch the tornado. Unfortunately... or maybe fortunately, the hail came first."

"Timmy can't duck," Jake piped in, then quickly looked out the window.

Charlie winced. Oh yeah. Getting hit on the head with anything flying sucked.

"You were lucky you didn't get swept up," he commented.

Timmy pouted.

"But I didn't get to see it!"

"The tornado?"

Timmy nodded.

"Jake took me away."

"You were screaming like a banshee anyway," Jake said, the frown on his face testament enough that the event had scared him. Charlie knew that feeling well. Despite all the years, he still felt responsible for his younger brothers. Hell, he was scared even by Blake getting into danger. Having someone you cared about always meant you felt responsible for them.

The boys kept bickering and Sheila and Charlie exchanged an exhausted look.

"At least he isn't seriously hurt," Sheila said and Charlie nodded. The kid seemed to have forgotten about the head wound in lieu of proving his brother that he wasn't crying like a baby when something hit him in the head.

"Head wounds tend to bleed, but... they look worse than they are," Charlie tried to reassure the mother. "Couple of stitches probably and he should be alright."

"Stitches?!" Timmy's voice went up and Charlie cringed, realizing he was overheard. Sheila threw him a glare.

Charlie gave her an apologetic look, while also checking where they were currently. He was hoping he would see the hospital, but due to fallen branches, Sheila had to slow down the car and take a detour. There was no escape.

"Needles?" Timmy shrieked, then leaned forward, until his brother caught him by the arm and stopped him from accidentally face planting the driver's seat. "Mum! You said no needles!"

"Come on, don't be such a baby," Jake spoke.

"I don't want to be stuck!" Timmy for once decided to ignore his brother's taunting.

"No one wants to be stuck. So next time when I tell you to do something, you better do it," Sheila said resolutely.

"Moooom!"

Charlie sighed.

Jumping out of the car seemed almost worth the possible injuries. But then he would be the one in need of stitches and Sheila was right. No one wanted needles. So he decided to bite the bullet and provide the distraction that seemed to be sorely needed.

"So... none of you saw the tornado?" he asked almost casually.

Timmy looked at him, confused, tears of fear trickling down his face.

"We didn't," Jake spoke grumpily, then paused. "Did you?"

Charlie knew that if he admitted to it, he would be peppered with questions. But he thought it better than listen to the bickering and wailing. So he nodded.

"I did," he admitted and as he expected the barrage of questions came rushing out, all the fears and pain forgotten.

"_How did it look?" _

"_Did it sweep you up?"_

"_Did you see what's inside? Is there a green witch?"_

The rest of the ride Charlie tried to describe what he saw without scaring the kids too much, although he probably should have worried more about Sheila. She cringed at his description, while the boys exclaimed excitedly and wanted to know more.

When the car came to a stop, it took Charlie a second to notice they weren't at the hospital but instead in front of the police station. He looked at Sheila, who just shrugged.

"I thought you might need a fast escape. And it was on the way."

The boys seemed disappointed, but Charlie felt he could hug the woman. If she hadn't been married and he wasn't practically one armed. Right now he just smiled and thanked her for the ride. Told the boys to behave and maybe stop by at the station later on. He might even show them the cells. As long as they won't misbehave. He stepped out of the car and gave a one handed wave, watching as the car sped off. He let out a sigh of relief. He liked kids but at this moment he was too exhausted to deal with them.

The station was still in one piece. Most of the town they had passed by in the car seemed to be affected only slightly. Charlie spotted several electricity poles down along with the phone lines on the east side of the town. Broken windows from the hail, one or two houses had a missing roof. People were checking damages, trying to get home, helping out others. So far, the worst of the damages Charlie had seen or heard about were on the outskirts of Ballarat. Lawson's decision to send out patrol cars with radio and Blake seemed to be a smart one indeed.

He looked at the sky. No clouds, no impending storm. With a deep breath Charlie walked into the station.

It was busier than usual, though there was no panic apparent. Only a sense one got when there was too much work to be done and not enough people. Civilians were milling around, requesting help or simply reporting things like a broken traffic light. Charlie pushed past a lady chewing off the ear of a Junior Constable. Based on what he heard, a badly secured street sign had blown over and fallen at her car as she was driving by in the storm.

"Who will fix the damages to my car now, son?" she asked, arms waving in the air and almost hitting Charlie in the face. He bypassed her with a grumbled 'Careful, Madam!', noted the Constables' uncertainty and the pleading look shot his way. Charlie felt only a smidge of guilt as he mouthed a silent 'have to go' and proceeded inside the main office.

Of course the first person he saw was Matthew Lawson. The Superintendant was sitting behind the desk, scribbling his signature into a form then handing the folder to a waiting officer, sending him on his way with a look. Charlie took a few more steps into the office, finally catching Lawson's attention.

"Sergeant Davis. What are you doing here?" he asked and it was clear Lawson had already talked to Blake. Or at the least had some info about what happened to them. Charlie stood still, trying to look as if everything was normal and his shoulder wasn't throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

"Reporting in for work, Boss."

"You have a day off, if I'm not mistaken," Lawson grouched and for some reason Charlie felt he could be a bit cheeky.

"I heard it's all hands on deck, so I came," he said seriously.

"_All hands_, yes. But you seem to be missing one," Lawson stated drily.

"Still attached," Charlie said with a grin and gave a careful wave, biting down a wince. Lawson didn't seem to be fooled however.

"Go home, Davis. Blake told me you are on medical leave."

Now it was Charlie who frowned.

"He must've been mistaken then. I'm pretty sure he told me I can go to work if I wish so." Charlie decided to keep the rest of what Blake said to himself. What the hell was Blake even thinking? First he left Charlie stranded at the house, then he told Lawson he was all but useless?

"Boss... I couldn't stay home doing nothing. I want to help. Even if it's just freeing up one of the guys from the desk."

Lawson gave him an assessing look, then with a sigh relented.

"Suit yourself, Davis. I don't have time to argue with you." Lawson turned to another constable sitting behind the desk who had just finished a phone call. "Peterson! Head out to Grant and English street. The traffic light broke and we are getting reports of a traffic jam. Sergeant Davis here will take over the phone."

"Yes, sir," Peterson looked almost relieved as he stood from behind the desk and Charlie was starting to wonder if he haven't made a mistake.

"Uh Boss?" he asked as he was settling down in the chair, a frown on his face.

"What? Changed your mind already?" Lawson asked with a raised eyebrow and Charlie unconsciously straightened his posture.

"No, Boss. Just wanted to ask about the phones. The line at the house was dead and Ned said it was the same everywhere else."

"Only the east side of the town. Unfortunately, the least affected population of Ballarat still has a working phone, which means we are being inundated by mostly worthless complaints or reports. However, seeing as there still might be someone in real need of help, we have to take every call."

As if on cue the phone on the desk rang and without any more words, Charlie picked up the phone.

"Ballarat police station, Sergeant Davis speaking. How can I help you?"


	5. Chapter 5

Several hours passed in a flurry of disjointed phone calls, panicked or concerned citizens coming into the station to report anything from a broken window to a missing cat. Charlie had already stopped counting the number of missing animals, sure they would most likely reappear within the next few days. He had a feeling the cats and dogs had more brains than their owners and decided to hide before the storm. Though when a farmer came to report he was missing half a dozen of sheep, Charlie just grimaced and wrote down the report, secretly thinking the chances of those poor animals to be found alive were rather slim. Especially knowing their last whereabouts was in the direction of the tornado.

When old Ms. Franklin came in complaining about someone breaking her window with a tree branch and Charlie had to spend the next twenty minutes trying to explain to the mostly deaf and senile woman that there had been a storm and chances were it was the culprit and not her next door neighbours, Charlie was seriously starting to regret his decision to come to the station.

Right now, the only real help he was offering was that he saved manpower and eased up one or two people to go outside and do something that actually helped. It wouldn't have been so bad, if not for the throbbing of his shoulder. Even though he was left-handed, Charlie realized very quickly how many things a person did with both hands. Or that the simple fact he had to adjust his posture to accommodate the sling while trying to write as fast as he could on the typewriter with only five fingers was a major pain in the... shoulder.

Really, the only bright point of the day for Charlie was a short visit from Rose. She only stopped by to get some information about the damages so she could write her report for the Courier, but Charlie still enjoyed her company. Especially when she spotted the sling and her face scrunched up in worry. Charlie felt a twinge of warmth inside his stomach at the realization she still cared for him. When she inquired about what happened, Charlie told her a short version, quite enjoying the widening eyes and look of excitement on her face. He would have gone into more detail as her pen scribbled frantically in her journal, but a clearing of a throat from Lawson brought an end to that.

"I believe sergeant Davis gave you all the vital information at this moment, Miss Anderson," Lawson said with a pointed look towards several people in the hall waiting to make their inquiry or report a problem.

Rose blinked.

"But uncle Matthew-" she started and stopped when she saw the look change into a glare. She realized this was not the right moment and with a sigh turned back to Charlie.  
"Maybe we can pick this up later?" she asked, hope colouring her voice.

Charlie knew she really just wanted a story. He knew not to get his hopes up too much. But he would be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to their meeting.

"Maybe you can stop by at the house? Once things calm down," Charlie offered and was rewarded by a shining smile.

"Deal. See you later, Charlie. Take care."

Then she stepped towards her uncle and leaned in a bit, lowering her voice so Charlie didn't hear what she said. But he could see Lawson's eyes turning towards him for a second, then back to Rose with an eye roll.

"Why don't you go do your reporting and let me do my job?" he grunted, though there was no real harshness behind it. Rose huffed a bit and Charlie expected her to speak up about how she _is _trying to do her job, but in the end she seemed to have given up.

"See you later, uncle Matthew," she said with a cheeky smile and with a wink at Charlie left the office. Lawson let out a longsuffering sigh, muttering under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like 'Should have left her with her mother'.

Charlie couldn't stop the chuckle, though he managed to at least cover it up as a cough when Lawson's head turned his way.

"Anything on your mind, Sergeant Davis?" the man asked and Charlie knew that saying anything that crossed his mind right now would only mean quick death. So he shook his head and diverted his gaze back towards the phone, as if hoping a call would save him. No luck there.

"Nope, Boss. Nothing at all."

Lawson grunted noncommittally and turned back to his own work.

Charlie let out a silent sigh, jumping slightly as his phone rang. Back to work then it was.

* * *

At long last, the trickle of phone calls and emergencies seemed to die down. It was getting late and most emergency situations had been already taken care of. There were really only few farms affected on the outskirts of the town that would require more help. Charlie didn't know all the details, but he was aware of at least two families which had lost their house to the tornado, or who had to temporarily relocate until severe repairs were done. Some livestock went missing or had been found dead and many windows and roofs were damaged, but fortunately... and maybe even miraculously, so far there was no death reported.

Charlie could hardly believe that, especially after witnessing the strength of the tornado first hand. Just thinking about the unnatural force rushing over their heads made him shudder. His body reacted to the memory as if it was happening. Muscles went taunt, preparing to receive a blow. Charlie's ears became suddenly stuffed and he felt that strange pressure inside his skull just like before they drove into the storm.

"Davis?"

Charlie blinked. He was sitting behind a desk, at work. In front of him was his boss, giving him a look that seemed surprisingly like concern.

Charlie cleared his throat, running his tongue over dry lips.

"Sorry, Boss," he muttered, sure that Lawson had been trying to get his attention for a while now. Why else would the man be standing in front of his desk, staring at him?

"Maybe you should head home," Lawson spoke, his words just confirming Charlie's thoughts.

Charlie automatically shook his head.

"I'm fine Boss," he started, even though he realized how untrue that statement was. He felt cold and tired, as if he had just crawled out of that cellar, still in wet clothes. The hand that was holding a pen was slightly shaking and Charlie squeezed the instrument harder. His throat was parched and his right shoulder was throbbing in rhythm with the pulsing sound inside his ears. There was not one exact point that hurt, more like his whole right side was just sore, with the pain focusing in the joint.

Lawson raised an eyebrow.

"Blake called in. He's heading to the hospital with a patient, then he's coming here to pick you up," Lawson stated and Charlie blinked. He wasn't aware Blake knew he made it to work. Seeing the confused look on his face, Lawson sighed.

"You really thought I didn't ask him whether to leave you here or send you home?" Lawson shook his head. "Finish whatever you are doing, Davis and take a break. I don't want Blake chewing my head off for letting you overdo it."

Charlie felt his face warm up. He wanted to protest but realized that saying he was fine would hardly cut it. On one side, he could somehow appreciate Lawson's care, however grumpily he showed it, on the other he really disliked his health being discussed without his input. After all it wasn't as if he was the only one to suffer some ailment that day... and Charlie wasn't at Blake's back constantly checking whether the man was alright or if he was caught in a flashback.

Though even as that thought crossed his mind, Charlie realized in a way, he was doing the same. Keeping an eye on Blake, even if it was just through the radio.

"I'll just... grab something to drink," Charlie muttered and stood, grimacing as the movement jarred his shoulder. Maybe he should actually take some of those pills Blake gave him before the Doc arrives. If he saw him right now, Charlie was pretty sure he would get that 'I told you this was a stupid idea' look on his face. Charlie didn't want that... nor did he want Blake chewing Lawson out. That would only result in Lawson not letting him work next time the situation went haywire.

Charlie snuck his hand into the pocket of his jacket and without really reading the label shook out two pills. It was most likely aspirin and one would hardly cut it in time for him to appear unbothered when Blake came.

He walked over to the small kitchen they had in the corner of the office, mostly serving as a place to make coffee or tea for distracted people or witnesses reporting crime. It was a wonder what a cup of tea could do to calm the nerves. Charlie poured himself a glass of water and quickly downed the pills. Then he turned on the kettle and waited for the water to boil. He was leaning slightly against the counter, closing his eyes for a moment.

The weariness hit him like a train. Somehow all the energy he had has evaporated and his body felt shaky, legs too weak to support his weight. Charlie leaned into the counter harder. Two younger constables had just entered the office and headed straight to the counter.

"Enough water for all of us, Serg?" one of them asked and Charlie nodded casually. He hoped the men didn't note how his hand was shaking or the chills that went through his frame. Charlie was trying to control his breathing, gritting his teeth and praying for the moment of weakness to pass.

_'What the hell was happening?'_

Suddenly everything seemed just a bit too bright, a bit too loud. It was as if his nerve endings had woken up and were sending out confused signals. Only now did Charlie realize how blissfully numb he felt ever since the tornado.

His stomach churned and the floor seemed to wave slightly. Charlie gulped. The two men didn't seem to notice, they kept talking to each other. About damaged roofs. About seeing a car lying in a ditch, looking like a tin can that became a victim of an angry child.

"Man, it was so scrunched up! Old Webster was lucky as hell he wasn't inside when the tornado started tossing that car around." The cop laughed while the other one just shook his head in disbelief.

"I still don't believe you," he muttered. "Tornado in Ballarat?"

"Yeah, who woulda thought. What's next... a tsunami?"

They both chuckled but Charlie didn't. His left hand was clutching the counter with such a force it was turning white.

_Scrunched up cars._

It would have been so easy to just have stayed in the car. But at what risk? Charlie's mind went to the state the farm house was left in when the tornado had passed. Torn in half... as if something cut through it. The painting still dangling slightly on the undamaged part of the wall.

The water in the kettle started boiling, the sound too loud. The whistle made Charlie jump, he could barely stop the yelp. Both men looked at him in surprise.

"You alright, sergeant?" the younger one asked.

Charlie gave a nod and his hand fumbled to turn the kettle off. He needed that blasted whistling to stop.

His hand was clumsy though and he inadvertently put it in the way of escaping steam.

"Bloody hell!" he cursed, this time yelping from pain. He let the kettle be, angry at himself and the world.

"Sergeant?" one of the cops took the handle and poured the water into the cups, while the other walked around the counter, most likely wanting to check if everything was alright.

"Am fine," he muttered. "Fine." Without a second glance at anyone in the office, Charlie pushed around the men hastily and headed towards the bathroom. His hand was burning and he kept cursing himself.

'_Way to go, Davis. Mess up your only good hand. Smart move.'_

He walked into the bathroom that was thankfully empty. Clumsily and with more grunted curses on his lips, Charlie managed to turn on the faucet. Putting his hand under the spray of cold water brought at least some relief.

Charlie let out a sigh and wished he could just sit down, put his hand in a bowl of cold water and close his eyes. The bathroom at least wasn't as noisy as the office, but still the running water felt uncomfortably loud to his senses right now.

The door to the bathroom opened and Charlie was of half mind to shout that it's occupied, to just leave him the hell alone for a few minutes. He opened his mouth, but closed it as he saw the person in the mirror. It was Lawson.

He had stepped inside the bathroom, then leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised as he was giving Charlie the look.

"Bad day, Davis?"

Charlie let out something between a chuckle and a whimper.

"Yeah... I think so," he said after a moment, his voice breaking. The coldness of the water seemed to seep through the skin of his hand and right into his bloodstream. He wanted to think that the chills running through his body were caused by the cold, but he knew it wasn't true. With a hitched breath he pulled his hand out from under the faucet and took a few steps back, leaning his back against the wall. His chest felt tight and the room was starting to spin.

Charlie blinked as the light flickered. There was a loud rushing sound in his ears and his heart skipped a beat. Was that the rumble of the tornado? Was it coming back? Were they safe here?

"Come on, easy. Just breathe."

Lawson was standing in front of him, the typical glare for once replaced by genuine concern. Charlie looked at him wide eyed, unsure when the man even moved. But he felt his hands on his good shoulder and elbow, leading him down to the floor awkwardly. Charlie thought Lawson was pushing him towards the ground, but in truth his own legs gave out and the man was just slowing down the pull of gravity.

Clumsily, Charlie's butt ended on the floor and it was proof of how miserable he felt that he didn't even worry about sitting on the bathroom floor.

Lawson grunted as he leaned down, his own bum leg most likely giving a loud protest over being in such an uncomfortable position. But he didn't get up, instead he tapped Charlie's face, requesting his attention.

"Charlie? What's the matter? What's wrong?" he kept asking until Charlie swallowed and somehow managed to put together a reply.

"I c-can't stop... shaking," he said, his teeth clanging together as another shudder wracked his body. Lawson frowned, his hand landing on Charlie's forehead. The hand felt nice and warm but Charlie couldn't help but recoil. This was his boss for goodness sake. He had to pull himself together. He had to stop whatever was happening.

The problem was he didn't know what was wrong. All he knew was this overwhelming feeling of dread that overpowered all his senses. It made every sound too loud, every colour too bright. Charlie felt as if there was something heavy pushing at him from up above, pushing him to the ground. Making it hard to breath.

The door to the bathroom opened again and Charlie could hear a surprised voice.

"Boss? Everything al-"

"Leave!" Lawson barked at the intruder and the door slammed shut. Lawson turned back towards Charlie. "It's alright. You just need to breathe, Charlie. Calm down. You are alright."

It was almost surreal to hear Lawson talk in such a gentle tone. Charlie wished he could have appreciated the moment more, but right now he was struggling to keep some control over his traitorous body.

Charlie shook his head, trying to clear it of the dark spots puttering his vision.

This wasn't making any sense.

Was he dying? What was happening?

Charlie's head swivelled, looking all around the bathroom. The walls felt too close. Was there even any air? Or did the tornado suck all of it out? Will the ceiling fall down on top of them, burying them alive? Or would they be sucked out and become just another plaything for the twisting monster?

His mind was a whirlwind of disjointed thoughts and Charlie just wished for it to stop. He felt nausea creep up on him and when Lawson's face seemed to swim to the side, Charlie shut his eyes tight.

There was a hand at the back of his head, first offering support, then pressure. It was pushing his head forward until it rested on a bony shoulder. Charlie's shoulder screamed in protest but he didn't fight back. He heard the soft rumbling voice telling him just to breath and relax and he did so.

Several minutes passed by and Charlie's back was cranking up from the strange position. But it helped. Breathing seemed to become easier and the rushing in his ears started to decrease. Charlie could have stayed like this forever, falling asleep.

Until he recognized the voice as Lawson and the reality of the situation came back to him with a crash.

He was in the bathroom, on the floor, using Lawson as a pillow.

Charlie's whole body went rigid.

"Charlie?" Lawson noted the change.

Charlie grit his teeth, wishing he could be anywhere else. Pulling together all the courage he had left, he raised his head from the shoulder and leaned back against the wall.

"B-boss?" he spoke shakily. "Sorry, I... I don't... sorry," he mumbled, averting his eyes. He felt Lawson's examining gaze on him and Charlie tried hard not to squirm. His eyes slipped down to his lap and he could see his left hand was still shaking. Blasted body, betraying him in such a way.

To his credit, Lawson cleared his throat and stood up, wincing as his own leg protested.

"Delayed shock reaction," he explained. "Nothing to be sorry for. Though maybe next time when Blake tells you to stay home, you will listen."

Charlie gave a nod, feeling his face flush crimson.

"Davis?" Lawson spoke and it was clear he wanted Charlie to give him his attention.

Charlie looked up, taken aback when he still found only concern and understanding on his superiors face instead of the disdain or disapproval he would have expected from anyone else.

"Are you alright now?" the man asked and Charlie gulped. He gave a slow nod, even though he still didn't know what had just happened.

"I c-couldn't stop shaking," he muttered, as if in explanation. Lawson's eyes slipped down to his hands, the right one turned into a fist inside the sling, the left one twitching nervously.

Lawson sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out what looked suspiciously like one of Blake's flasks.

"It's the nerves, nothing else. Here... take a few sips."

Charlie looked at the flask doubtfully. He wasn't one for hard liquor and Blake's taste in whiskey didn't sit well with him.

"Come on. It will calm you down."

"I shouldn't... at work," he gave a feeble protest, even though his hand was reaching out for the flask.

"You were off duty the moment you rushed out the office, Davis," Lawson told him with a snort. "You're just waiting for your ride home."

Charlie could hardly argue with that. He took the flask and cringed as his hand twitched, almost spilling its content. Lawson raised an eyebrow.

Charlie put the flask to his lips. This whole episode left him thirsty and maybe a drop of whiskey would warm his bones and calm his insides. With some hesitation, he took a small sip, then pulled it away with a grimace.

"Ugh."

Lawson chuckled.

"Maybe take a gulp instead? That's not Jean's cherry in there... "

Charlie could agree with that. Jean's cherry actually tasted good. This slosh... well. Though he had to admit, it warmed his throat. With a sigh he put the flask back to his lips and without too much thinking he took several large gulps. Hell, maybe the liquor could chase away the shame of using his boss as a pillow.

"Okay, that shall be enough," Lawson stopped him, taking the flask away.

Charlie blinked. His insides were warm and calm. The rumbling in his ears seemed to calm down as well. Maybe Blake knew what he was doing after all...

"Thanks Boss," he muttered and even managed a half grin. Lawson was giving him a doubtful look, looking as if he was suddenly considering the wisdom of his decision.

"Can you get up now? I'd rather Blake doesn't have to come looking for you at the bathroom."

Charlie nodded. That was indeed a smart thought. His head swam at the motion, but it was different than before. More... numb. Calmer.

Getting up was bit of a chore, but Charlie at least managed without having to use Lawson as an aide. The man still stood there, waiting to offer assistance. Charlie straightened, taking a quick look in the mirror. He looked... almost normal. Admittedly a bit pale, but no real sign of his meltdown.

"Alright there?" Lawson asked and Charlie turned back to him.

"Yeah, Boss. Thanks," he muttered and Lawson gave him a nod, then opened the door to the hall.

"After you, Davis."

* * *

When Blake finally made it to the police station, it was already getting dark outside. His visit to the hospital with Mrs. Leighton took longer than he anticipated. She was in her last trimester when the tornado hit, and even though their house wasn't affected, the phone line was down. Her contractions hit and her husband was out in the field with the oldest son, leaving her at home with two of the youngest children. By the time Blake and Jean arrived at their farm for a cursory check, Mrs. Leighton was giving birth. The middle child had run off to fetch the father and Blake was glad for that. It seemed like the baby had decided to cause a bit of trouble and the best course of action was the hospital.

Jean had stayed behind with the children, while Mr. Leighton finally arrived and helped Blake and Ned put his wife into the back of the police car. The ride was one of the least comfortable Blake had the pleasure of enduring as he had to focus on the patient in the backseat and the car was jumping wildly on the road.

Jean was left behind to take care of the children until the husband returned or some of the relatives arrived to help out. Blake had left his car with her, so she had a way to get home, because there was no way to call a cab right now.

Which meant that once he stopped at the station, he and Charlie would need to find a ride home. But that was the least of his concerns at the moment. The day had been long. Blake haven't eaten or even drank anything since breakfast in the morning. The only thing he wanted was to grab his wayward tenant and drag him home, so he can stop concerning himself with the thoughts that he had messed up in the cellar. He just needed his family safe and together in the house, preferably sitting down behind the kitchen table and enjoying something warm and filling. Then a glass of whiskey and bed.

With these thoughts on his mind, Blake walked into the office. He had spotted Matthew right away... standing in front of a map and putting in several red pins. Blake squinted a bit and noted all the pins were in the places they had visited, the ones where the tornado did actual damage. Places which will need heavy repairs.

There were surprisingly little of them though, if Blake thought about how vicious the tornado was. It was very fortunate it had missed the town or they would have been in trouble. Blake shuddered at the thought of how much damage it could have caused running through the main street in the middle of the day.

"Ah, Lucien," Lawson turned to look at him. "Finally. I was starting to wonder if you haven't been swept away by another tornado."

Blake grimaced and shook his head.

"I wouldn't give you that joy, Matthew," he said then smiled. Lawson rolled his eyes and headed towards his desk, so Blake decided to join him and settled down in the seat across from it. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, but Blake assumed he was just off at the bathroom or doing some office stuff.

"I heard you had a really shitty day," Lawson started as he sat down and gave Blake a once over. His eyebrow rose a bit when he caught sight of something dark staining Blake's right coat arm. "Don't tell me you managed to maim yourself as well."

"What?" Blake looked down at the stain, then sighed. "No. That's not mine. Let's just say... Mrs. Leighton's pregnancy was more complicated than predicted. Also... if you are wondering where is constable Simmons... he's probably trying to clean out the back of the squad car," Blake explained and Lawson's face scrunched up in a grimace.

"I hope everyone is alright?"

"Oh yes," Blake was happy he could deliver good news at least. He internally snorted at the word 'deliver' and realized he most likely had enough for a day. "Mrs. Leighton had to be taken to surgery, but when I was leaving the family had grown by a healthy little girl. And sans complications, the mother should be fine in few days as well."

Lawson nodded.

"That's good. This day needs some good news."

Blake frowned.

"Did something else happen? How bad is the damage?"

Lawson nodded towards the map.

"Luckily the damages aren't that bad. So far we have no reports on any casualties, except missing livestock. Several farm houses will need extensive repairs. I am more troubled by the fact the phone lines might take a few days to repair. Which might be an incentive for some of our less savoury citizens to try and do crime, thinking there won't be anyone to stop them."

Blake sighed. He didn't want to think there were people who would use this disaster to their advantage and try to steal or square up with each other. But he knew from personal experience that such people existed and those had no scruples.

"Do you have any plans how to stop that from happening?"

Matthew nodded.

"I've already requested some help from Bendigo... we will get two cars tonight. Few more people will arrive from Melbourne tomorrow and I will be putting cruisers into the areas where the communications are down. Let's see someone try take advantage of this," Lawson added with a smirk. Blake snorted.

"I am pretty sure some will try. As long as you don't bring more work to me or the hospital, I'd say enjoy yourself."

"I'll let Hobart know about your reservations," Lawson deadpanned.

Blake's stomach grumbled and he shot a look at his watch. What was taking Charlie so long? He wanted to go home and grab at least a sandwich.

Blake looked around the office once more and frowned. Charlie's chair was pushed in behind the desk and there was a suspicious lack of paperwork or even tea cups. Blake's sight turned to Lawson, who for some reason found his own paperwork more than interesting suddenly.

"Pray tell, where _is _Charlie?"

Lawson grimaced and Blake felt a stirring of worry. Not deep worry, he was sure that if Charlie was in any real trouble Lawson wouldn't be sitting there so calmly. But based on Lawson's body language, there was definitely a merit to concern.

"Matthew," Blake spoke the name calmly, though with some irritation.

Lawson sighed and looked up.

"Alright. Follow me," he said and stood up. Blake's eyebrows rose a bit on their own accord as he followed Lawson through the well known corridors. There was no mistaking. They were going to the cells.

"What's going on here, Matthew?" Blake asked, his impatience growing.

Lawson just pointed towards one of the cells. Blake shot him a glare and walked up to the door, peering inside.

Charlie was lying on the cot, right arm hanging half off, only supported by the sling. His left arm was thrown haphazardly over his face, covering the eyes. For all intents and purposes, Charlie appeared to be fast asleep.

Blake wanted to walk into the cell and make sure he was alive. He wanted to rush in and berate Charlie for the stupid idea of coming to work. Most of all, he wanted to get angry at Lawson for locking Charlie up like some kind of a criminal.

Seeing that Charlie's chest was raising and falling regularly and he didn't seem to be in any immediate distress, Blake decided that he was safe enough to leave asleep for the moment. Lawson on the other hand...

Blake swivelled from the door, glaring at Lawson.

"Why in the world did you lock him up?"

Lawson raised his hands.

"It's not how it looks," he said and already had the key in his hand.

"Then do explain please."

"I think he just had a bit of delayed reaction. He was doing fine until the last hour or so, then he got all shaky." Lawson shrugged. "Adrenaline fading I suppose. Or just the two idiots next to him gabbing about the tornado that triggered something."

Blake frowned. Was it really just psychological? Didn't he overlook something? Maybe Charlie suffered some other injury that caused a reaction... and why was he asleep now?

Blake shot an impatient look at Lawson and the man unlocked the cell.

"Anything else happened?" Blake asked even as he walked to the cot and gently moved the injured arm back, so it now fully rested on Charlie's stomach.

Charlie let out a small moan of discomfort, but didn't seem to wake, which gave Blake reason for more concern. He should not be this lethargic just from a dislocated shoulder. If anything, the discomfort would most likely keep him awake. Unless...

"Did he take the pills I gave him?"

Lawson stared at him for a second and Blake could see something clicked.

"Oh. Well... that would explain it."

"Explain what Matthew?"

It was the first in a very long time that Blake actually saw Lawson look sheepish. He would have taken a photo for future reference, but right now he had more pressing concerns.

"I might've given him a few sips of your whiskey."

Blake just stared at Lawson. Was the man serious? He was probably the last person on earth Blake would have suspected of bereaving his subordinates, at work nonetheless. And what the hell did he mean by _Blake's _whiskey?

"You... you got him drunk? While on meds?"

"Now wait a second! I didn't make him anything, especially not drunk! Not my fault the kid can't handle his liquor. He looked like he could use something, anyway. And how was I to know he took the pills?"

Blake let one hand run down the back of his neck as he shook his head. Well, mixing pills and alcohol could have been the cause of Charlie's sleepiness. Still, he needed to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong there.

He took hold of Charlie's right hand, making sure the circulation was good there. Then he checked the pulse. A bit faster than a sleeping person might have, but nothing worth of concern. For all appearances, Charlie really was just... done and in need of some rest.

"So... why did you bring him to a cell?" Blake looked at Lawson, who was now leaning against the door, looking almost bored.

"He looked like he needed to lie down."

Blake frowned.

"Hardly a reason to lock the door then."

Lawson huffed.

"It was for his safety."

Blake raised an eyebrow. Lawson shrugged.

"No one really appreciated his singing. While Over the rainbow might have been popular with the troops, you must admit, Charlie is no Judy Garland."

Blake didn't know what to think. He had to fight down the chuckle that threatened upon the image of Charlie trying to belt out the song that decidedly wasn't made for his voice range. He didn't succeed, so clearing his throat and focusing on Charlie seemed like the best option.

He took hold of Charlie's left hand and moved it away from his face, intent on checking Charlie's level of consciousness. He was a bit surprised when a pair of light blue eyes peered back at him. The pupils were constricted, a clear sign of the unfortunate combination of medicine and alcohol.

Charlie blinked, then pulled his hand free. A bit clumsily, he put his finger to his lips.

"Shhhh. I'm hiding!" Charlie's words were supposed to come out as a whisper, but the volume was anything but. Blake twitched.

"Hiding from whom?" he asked, deciding to take this seriously. Charlie deserved at least someone to take him seriously in this situation.

"The Wicked Witch of the East," Charlie said, not batting an eye.

Blake could hear a stifled chuckle from behind. He didn't deem it worthy enough to turn and glare at Lawson right now. Instead he took in a calming breath, and tried to find some patience after a long and stressful day.

"Ah. And who would that be?"

Charlie blinked, his eyes squinting a bit and head turning to look around the cell.

"Mrs. Toohey?" he said in that too loud a whisper.

Blake looked at him surprised. "Mrs. Toohey? The lady that took care of the house while Jean was in Adelaide?" he wanted to clarify they were speaking about the same woman. Charlie bobbed his head in a nod.

"She tried to _poison _us," Charlie noted and Blake's eyebrows went up. He didn't remember any mention of poisoning during his and Jean's absence. He shot a quick look at Lawson, who just gave him an equally confused shrug in reply.

"Charlie... are you sure about that?" he asked, internally reprimanding himself for even entertaining the thought. What on earth was he even thinking? Mrs. Toohey was no witch...

"Have you ever tasted her _meatloaf?_" Charlie shuddered. "She is a witch and she wanted to poison us and I need to hide before she gets me."

With that statement, Charlie covered his eyes with his arm and once again pretended to be asleep.

Blake just sat there for a whole minute, too stunned to come up with a reply. Until he heard a shuffle of steps behind him.

"Well... I should probably return to my work and leave you to... handle this," Lawson said with a smirk.

"Don't you dare, Matthew," Blake growled. "This is all your fault."

Before Lawson could protest, Charlie's arm slipped off his face a bit and he looked at his boss.

"Tinman! You here to save us?" he called and Blake had to bite down on his lip to stop from laughing. The look on Lawson's face... dear Lord... that was worth the whole day.

"What did he just call me?" Lawson sputtered, turning to Blake. Most likely so he wouldn't try and strangle his senior sergeant.

"Tin man. You know... the poor woodman which was cursed by the witch, all his limbs chopped off and then replaced by tin? Except for his heart... he is still missing that," Blake helpfully explained with a wink.

"I know who Tin Man is!" Lawson growled. "Why the hell does he think it's me?"

Blake shrugged.

"Must be your hearty disposition, Matthew," he said somehow cheekily. Lawson gave him a glare.

Charlie didn't seem to like that though.

"Don't argue," he said in a somehow pleading voice. "You must help us, Tin Man. We need to return home, before the cyclone sweeps us away again."

Lawson huffed.

"He is out of his mind. Are you sure that's just the drugs?"

"Of course not. It's also the liquor. And the fact we had a tornado rush over our heads," Blake answered grumpily, then turned to Charlie, softly patting his hand.

"It's alright Charlie. I can take us home." Charlie's face turned into an unhappy frown and he shook his head.

"No one wants me at home. Not Ray, not eve Joey. Maybe... maybe I should stay here? I... I can help fight the witch and then they might want me back?" Charlie asked, throwing a look full of hope at both men.

There was a moment of silence in the cell. Lawson tried to look anywhere but at Charlie and Blake let out a sigh.

"I'm sure that's not true, Charlie. Your family is missing you."

Charlie stubbornly shook his head. Blake decided to change his tactic.

"Well, they don't know what they are missing then. But you shouldn't forget Charlie... you have more than just one family."

Charlie gave Blake a thoughtful look.

"Do you need my help to fight the wicked witch?" Charlie asked with some suspicion.

Lawson chortled, trying to hide it behind a pretend cough.

"The witch is gone and once you get some sleep, you will be back to normal," Blake stated, trying to keep his composure and not lose his patience.

"Are you sure? What about the flying monkeys?"

Blake blinked, caught a bit off guard.

"What monkeys? Are you seeing monkeys around?" he asked with a frown. If Charlie was having visual hallucinations, the drug reaction might've been worse than he expected.

"They are up at the office," Charlie replied seriously. "Flying around, filling out reports, imprisoning people," he added in a hushed tone. "And they hate singing!"

This time even Blake chortled.

"Oh, Charlie. It's... it's alright, there are no flying monkeys anymore."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Blake reassured him. "They all returned to the witch. You are safe. Well... maybe you will be safer back home... and without telling everyone who you think they are."

Charlie frowned, confused.

"Why?"

"Just... trust me on this. You will be thankful in the morning," Blake said, ignoring the huffed chuckle behind. "Alright, can you sit up? I know from personal experience that these cots aren't all that comfortable."

"Well, this is hardly the Hilton now, is it?" Lawson commented, while Charlie flopped over to the side in an attempt to get up. Blake grabbed him and with some careful manoeuvring and lots of grunting, he managed to get him up into a standing position and somehow supported. Charlie stood there, looking around a bit confused and wavering unsteadily.

"Doc?" his wide eyes landed on Blake. "Why are we locked up?"

Blake sighed.

"We are not, Charlie. Matthew here just thought you would appreciate a bit of rest until my arrival."

"Oh. That's so nice of you, boss!" Charlie said with a thankful smile, while Blake pulled his good arm over his shoulder and slowly nudged them towards the door.

Lawson grunted, looking away.

"I better get someone to take you two idiots home," he grumbled and without waiting for a reply quickly limped off.

"Did I say something wrong?" Charlie asked, his forehead scrunching in confusion at the sudden departure of his supervisor.

"Nothing at all, Charlie," Blake reassured him with a smile. "Matthew just doesn't like being called nice. It ruins his image of a stern badass."

"Oh. Pity. I like him nice more," Charlie admitted somehow sheepishly as they were walking out of the cells. Blake nodded to a passing by cop who gave them a curious look.

"Well, enjoy it while it lasts then." Blake wasn't sure how nice will Lawson be once Charlie's drunken state passed. The boy would most likely be in for some serious talking to as well as being banned from work. Though if he really did have a sing off at the office, Blake was sure Charlie would be glad for time off. Not like that would save him from some good natured teasing of course.

Blake had a feeling that perhaps Lawson's glare managed to clear the halls of all stragglers. They barely met a person, and those who passed by pretended to ignore their drunken looking gait. Once they arrived outside, there was already a police car waiting in front. Ned a bit sheepishly waved at the two of them and opened the back door.

"You might want to move to the right side, Sergeant. The left is still a bit wet."

Blake saw an old jacket thrown over a wet patch of the seat and raised an eyebrow.

"Any reason why you didn't get a different car?" he asked, looking around at two other cruisers sitting idly in the parking lot.

"Sorry. The boss didn't want to risk another 'accident' and having two cars out of order."

Well, Blake had to admit that was smart. Especially five minutes later when Charlie's face turned green after Ned took a sharper turn than intended. Blake thought, with only a smudge of concern and a lot of amusement, that Charlie's face was now more reminiscent of the green witch of the east than Mrs. Toohey could ever be.

* * *

Charlie didn't remember that much from the rest of the day. After hearing Blake and Lawson joke about it during the breakfast next day, he was kind of glad for that. He still felt his cheeks turn red at hearing about him singing in front of everyone. Lawson was especially enjoying commenting on his voice range, when Jean's glare finally shut him up. Blake just cleared his throat and burrowed his face in the morning paper.

Charlie thought he might have to start looking for a new job. Maybe swiping the streets... or he could move to New Zealand? Anything to escape the embarrassment.

When Blake told him he should stay home for a few days to rest the shoulder, Charlie didn't even protest. While he wanted to help out at the station, he remembered catching sight of Hobart, sometimes after his great idea of taking the pills. Charlie wasn't sure what he told the man, but the look of consternation on Hobart's face warranted some caution.

The morning passed by quickly. Blake stood after his word and took Charlie in for an x-ray. Fortunately, nothing was broken and the damage wasn't too bad. Although the drive back home was anything but comfortable.

The roads were still littered with branches and rocks and Charlie had to bite down a grunt of pain more than once.

He was more than happy to just settle on the couch, while Jean was in the kitchen, preparing lunch.

She had spent the morning at a church meeting, where they decided to hold a baking sale and give the proceeds to the affected families as well as looking for volunteers to help out with repairing the damaged houses. Charlie hoped his shoulder would be well enough by then to offer his own help, at the least to the farmer and his son. After all, their cellar might have just saved his and Blake's lives.

Lawson had also offered some help in that department. Charlie knew he had at least few officers in mind when chosing 'volunteers' though he was a bit hazy on what the young constables did to be picked out like that. Oh well, that wasn't his problem. After what happened the day before, Charlie was glad that he didn't have to face Lawson right now. The man was back at work. That only left Blake, sitting in his favorite chair and relaxing with a book, as his patients were scheduled for the afternoon.

It was in that calmness and tranquillity that Charlie finally tried to sort through the mess in his head. The last few days felt like a roller coaster really. First his family... and Charlie still needed to call back home and let his mom know he was alright. Once the phone was back online. He was grateful that at least Lawson had the forethought of giving a call to his mother last night, before heading home from work. Charlie should have thought of it himself, but to be honest, he still felt hurt by his family.

It wasn't even their fault really and after being almost swept up by the tornado Charlie realized how childish he was acting. Not towards Bernie. Because it would be a cold day in hell before Charlie started thinking of the man as anything even a bit reminding of a father. But his mom or brothers didn't deserve his ire.

Charlie sighed and rubbed at his shoulder, grimacing when that just worsened the stiffness. He looked up from the book that had already closed in his lap, unread. Well, maybe he could at least help Jean out in the kitchen? What was she even doing? Ah, right. Peeling potatoes. Hardly something to do with one arm. Charlie pouted and reopened the book. Where did he end?

It didn't matter. Three sentences in and Charlie once again lost focus. Maybe it was the side effects of him mixing medications with alcohol. He shuddered as he remembered the lecture he got from both Lawson and Blake early in the morning as he stumbled into the kitchen for coffee. He could barely remember his name at that moment. His mind was still foggy and full of strange dreams with flying monkeys and green skinned people and dear Lord... did he call Lawson a Tin Man in a cell?

He did. Charlie moaned in remembered shame.

"Shoulder bothering you?" Blake asked, startling him from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"You keep rubbing it and grimacing. When's the last time you took the pills?"

Charlie let his hand fall from his shoulder. He was rubbing at it, wasn't he?

"Uh, breakfast. But it's fine. I was just lost in thought," he added the last. Blake gave him a look then sighed.

"You do know Matthew was exaggerating, right? I doubt there was more than two or three people around last night when you had the reaction. And they surely understand the reason of your... indisposition."

Charlie cringed, wishing he could forget the whole affair as simple as that.

"No offense Doc, but... you don't know how the guys are there. Maybe I better stay on sick leave until we catch some gruesome murder case..."

Blake rolled his eyes.

"Nonsense. Don't worry so much, Charlie. I'm sure if there's a problem, Matthew will sort it out rather quickly. After all... he was the one who supplied the whiskey," Blake said with a wink and Charlie snorted.

Well, Blake wasn't wrong. Charlie wouldn't have made such a big fool of himself if it wasn't Lawson's attempt at help. Though Charlie couldn't find it in himself to blame the man. He was still a bit taken aback by how Lawson tried to help. Even this morning when he was making fun of Charlie's singing proves, he never once mentioned the meltdown in the bathroom, or the fact Charlie used him as a pillow. Charlie appreciated it more than words could say.

Of course what followed afterwards was what would haunt his nightmares for the foreseeable future probably. He wasn't sure what triggered the meltdown at the station, maybe another mention of the tornado from one of his colleagues, but after Charlie and Lawson returned to the office, things just became... hazy. All wavy and unreal and Charlie suddenly remembered the all too colourful movie Wizard of Oz. The cyclone sweeping up the house... and landing Dorothy and Toto in a land full of strange characters, swirling colours and music.

Suddenly, Charlie felt stranded. All alone in a place that stopped looking familiar and somehow reality mixed with the movie his mother so loved watching whenever she could. He was lost and trying to find his way, until Blake came and took him home.

And this _was_ his home, Charlie realized as he was sitting on the couch, listening to Blake and Jean softly speaking in the kitchen.

When Blake suddenly appeared with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel in his hands, Charlie looked at it uncomprehendingly.

"Here. For the shoulder. It might help." Blake handed over the towel and Charlie put it on.

"Thanks," he said, blinking. His eyes felt suddenly a bit too dry and scratchy.

"Lunch will be in twenty minutes," Blake commented but didn't settle back in his chair. Instead he sat behind the piano. "Fancy some music?"

Charlie gave him a suspicious look. Blake winked.

"Jean? Any requests?"

Charlie felt relief when Jean called out a song he didn't really know and Blake started playing. It was that ease and familiarity that made him appreciate his current state. The cold from the ice was numbing his shoulder, but it warmed his heart. He wasn't alone and forgotten. Family wasn't just in blood after all. Family were people you loved and who in turn loved and cared for you.

Charlie loved them. Even if they were sometimes a pain in the ass, Charlie thought as Lucien finished the song Jean requested and started playing the all too familiar tune.

Charlie wanted to chuck a pillow at him or maybe that pack of ice.

Until he heard Jean's voice from the kitchen, softly singing.

"Charlie? You wanna join in?" Blake asked with a smile.

Charlie rolled his eyes. He waited a moment, contemplating. Then, in the most challenging part he joined in with the most horrible rendition possible.

The laughter from the kitchen and Blake hitting the wrong key in startle was definitely worth it.

THE END


End file.
